East of Glory
by Hurricanelights
Summary: The boys are growing up, but it seems that even with age, they haven't left behind their penchant for attracting trouble. Damien is back and is searching for a special item, which he claims is possessed by Kyle Broflovski. Will contain slash!
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer:** South Park and all of its respective characters are the property of Matt Stone and Trey Parker. I own only this story's plot and any original characters that may pop up from time to time. Also, I am making no profit from this story.

**Warnings:** This story will contain slash (boys love, yaoi, etc.) as well as violence, swearing, and, well, most of the things you would probably hear in a regular episode of South Park. The boys are intended to be between the ages of 16-18 here.

* * *

**Prologue**

Trent couldn't ever really remember having many visitors during his long stay in juvenile hall. Oh, his mother would come by occasionally, whenever she had nothing better to do and sometimes, very rarely, his elder brother might pop up to check on him, but he didn't think either of those really mattered since he could count the number of visits from both relatives on one hand. Not that it bothered him, Trent couldn't recall a time when he had been close to his mother and there was only so far a brotherly bond would go.

So, the surprise that came from hearing he had a visitor wasn't all that out of place. At first, Trent had thought it might be his brother, considering all he'd been told was that 'some guy was here' to see him. However, the dark-haired youth he'd found sitting in the small room was definitely _not_ Toby and it took Trent only a moment longer to realize just who the boy was.

Even now, Trent still wasn't quite sure _how_ the so-called 'son of Satan' had found him, but he was sure that whatever reason the boy had for wanting to see him, it couldn't be good. Then again, if he bothered to think about it, any reason for the demon-boy showing up couldn't exactly be called ideal. Damien was, after all, known for popping up only when he wanted something and, more often than not, that something never turned out to be beneficial for anyone.

Other than Damien, that is.

Which led Trent back to his original dilemma. Just what did Damien want with him? He supposed he could have simply asked him, but even he didn't think that would be such a good idea. After all, if he didn't ask, he couldn't really get involved with whatever the boy wanted. That, in turn, meant he could continue serving out his completely undeserved sentence in juvenile hall in peace.

"Come now Trent, how long are you going to continue ignoring me?" Damien said, breaking the silence that had fallen over the pair ever since Trent's arrival. "I daresay, its rude to deny your guest at least the basic pleasantries. You act as if I'm here to deliver a death sentence." A small chuckle followed the words, as if a joke had been shared and Trent had completely missed it.

Eyes narrowing, the blonde studied the other who sat across the table from him, as if debating on whether or not he should trust him. Though he had spent a good part of his life within these walls, he'd heard about Damien from the newer boys and though he was unsure of how much of that information was fact and how much merely exaggeration, he knew one thing; any boy that could set someone on fire or turn another person into some animal was _not_ a boy he wanted to mess with.

Still, he supposed the quickest way for getting the boy to leave, would be to actually speak to him.

"What do you want?" Well, so much for not getting involved. Trent had never been known for his conversation skills, and truthfully, he knew that was the question Damien wanted to hear. Or, at the very least, a variation of it. This assumption was confirmed when he saw a small, yet pleased, smirk work its way onto the others face.

"I can see that talks of the weather and daily goings on are not your forte. No matter, I suppose getting right to it will work." He paused then and, glancing toward the door, studied the spot for a long moment before turning back to Trent, the smirk widening. "I have come to ask for your help. Tell me Trent, do you happen to remember a boy named Kyle Broflovski?"

Of course he remembered Kyle Broflovski. He remembered all of those little lying punks, how could he not? They were the very reason he was back in this place. Wondering then if Damien was merely toying with him, Trent snarled and leaning back, gave the other a dark look.

"That's a stupid question and you know it."

"Yes, of course you remember him. Well, you see the reason I'm here is because I would like to offer you a chance to repay Kyle for his, ah, help in your current living arrangement." The words flowed from him easily, as if he were merely recounting what he'd had for lunch earlier, and if he noticed the way Trent's body seemed to go very still, he chose not to draw attention to it. "You see, Kyle has something that I want and, I need you to help me get it."

"Why?" Trent asked, not entirely sure of how he should react to the news he'd just received.

Damien lifted a hand, eying his nails for a moment before he began to pick at one, gaze sliding back toward Trent. "You hold a grudge against Kyle and his friends. I should think that would be reason enough for you to want to help in my getting rid of them." Finishing with his nail, he shifted and leaning forward, chuckled. "It would also ensure you'd never again have to look at these walls."

Oh, that got Trent's attention.

Sitting up straight now, Trent frowned and eying the boy in front of him carefully, swallowed, forcing his next words out. "You can get me out of here? How? In case you didn't know, I'm not going back to society any time soon." A hint of bitterness followed the words, from what he was sure was due to the fact he was having a false hope dangled in front of him.

Raising an eyebrow, Damien chuckled. "Oh Trent, have you forgotten who I am? Rest assured, I _can_ get you out of here and, all I ask in return is that you come work for me. I promise, it won't be without its rewards." A simple answer, full of promise and yet, there was something just behind those words; something dark, that should have served as a warning.

He knew, somewhere in the back of his mind, that this was a mistake. A trap, carefully laid and that with just one word, he would fall right into it. Still, there was that small possibility of freedom and revenge that was now staring him directly in the face. As he watched that pale, oddly delicate-looking hand extend toward him, Trent saw two paths ahead. Everything in him screamed to take the one away from those dark eyes, to turn away and deny the demon-boy what he had come here for.

Sadly, Trent had never been very good with warnings.


	2. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** South Park and all of its respective characters are the property of Matt Stone and Trey Parker. I own only this story's plot and any original characters that may pop up from time to time. Also, I am making no profit from this story.

**Warnings:** This story will contain slash (boys love, yaoi, etc.) as well as violence, swearing, and, well, most of the things you would probably hear in a regular episode of South Park. The boys are intended to be between the ages of 16-18 here.

* * *

**Chapter 01**

Kyle had no idea how it had come to this, but he was fairly sure that by the end of the day he was going to regret coming to this class. As he watched Cartman settle down beside him, taking what was usually Token's seat, Kyle tried to mask his displeasure and pay attention to what the teacher was saying, though try as he might, all he could really hear was his own mind screaming about this injustice.

History had always been a good subject for him, or at least Kyle thought so. It wasn't his favorite (that fell to Literature) but he had never found any fault with the subject so far, and he certainly didn't think it was fair that this little project might just ruin that. Apparently, the teacher had thought that, with it being so early in the new year, a team project would be a 'fun' way to start the new school year.

He was willing to overlook that, this was after all her first year teaching high school and it might not have occurred to her that kids in eleventh grade were just a _little_ different than kids in fourth grade. However, it was the fact of who his partner was that was causing Kyle to suffer something he was sure could be called a mini-meltdown, at least internally. They had been back to school for nearly five weeks now and he was sure that, unless the woman was just completely moronic, she had to have noticed that he and Cartman were _not_ the most ideal partners. For anything.

Did their last little argument teach her nothing?

Oh, of course even Kyle would admit (only in secret) that Cartman had gotten a little better over the years. He still couldn't be called nice or even friendly, but his personality had taken a turn as he matured. Over the last few years, he'd grown quieter and while he was still known for his ability to both crush someone verbally while at the same time rally others with just a mere speech, those instances were few and far between. He had even improved physically, and while he was still bigger than most of the other boys, much of it was due to his short stay on the football team between sophomore and junior year.

None of that, however, had seemed to have affected his relationship with Kyle, though if the Jewish boy were to be honest it wasn't quite as bad as it used to be. Cartman tended to ignore him more than anything these days, preferring silence to a racial remark and though he sometimes found himself a little thrown by the new attitude, Kyle was rather relieved. Still, that didn't mean he wanted to be bound to the boy for two weeks on some idiotic project.

"Jew, pay attention and stop fucking staring at me," Cartman hissed, his gaze sliding over to focus on Kyle. If he was aware of the reason why Kyle had been staring at him, he preferred to leave it unsaid and waiting until the red-head was looking back towards the front of the class, rolled his eyes, following suit.

The racial jabs might have ebbed off, but it seemed that Kyle would always be 'jew' to Cartman and while it had long-since stopped bothering him, even getting to the point where he responded to it without really thinking, the fact that the fatass couldn't even bother with his name just made him wish even more he had been paired with someone, anyone, else. Even Craig, which said quite a bit about how far he was willing to go.

Guessing there was nothing he could really do about it without drawing attention to himself, Kyle sighed and decided that he would just suffer through it for the grade, determined at least to come out of this with a good mark. No longer in the mood to try and pay attention to whatever the teacher was droning on about now, he frowned and seeing something move in the corner of his eye, glanced over, eyes narrowing at the sight.

Stan sat just a few tables away with Wendy, who was sitting so close she might as well have been in his lap and like he usually did when the two of them were involved, he had to fight the urge to gag. Kyle had no problem with Stan having a girlfriend and he was, at the very least, glad that the two of them had pretty much been stable these last few years, as opposed to the on-off thing they'd had going for the better part of their relationship history. However, it was a bit sickening to see just how lovey they could get with one another and the fact they had somehow gotten paired together just didn't sit right with Kyle.

Not that he had held out much hope for getting paired with Stan, the boy had an odd habit of working things out so he and Wendy could work together. At the most, Kyle had hoped for Kenny but those were dashed when the other was told to work with Butters. Letting out yet another sigh, he lifted his gaze and searching for the clock, still not used to its new location by the door, felt a small surge of relief as he watched it slowly, but surely, tick its way to three-thirty.

* * *

The silence that filled the alley behind Tom's Rhinoplasty was broken by a light pop, followed by a rather loud string of curses as the figure stumbled, a hand slamming against the building as he tried to find his footing. Trent frowned and taking a moment to regain his senses, glared, at least thankful he'd managed to arrive in a deserted area. Knowing now what Damien had meant when he'd said the first time would be a bit disorienting, Trent sighed and guessing he had a while before the whole 'travel via teleporting' thing would become natural, moved forward, reminding himself of why he was here.

Stopping near the edge of the building, he reached into his pocket and, pulling out a small crystal, studied the object, wanting to get a look at his only tool. It was a tiny thing, red in color, fitting nicely in the center of his palm, and Trent was sure if one had no idea of its true purpose, it could be called pretty. He knew, however, that its purpose was anything _but_ pretty.

According to Damien, it would create, simply, a separate dimension. One that would look exactly like the original surroundings, but which only those specified could enter. Trent wasn't quite clear on all the details, he'd found most of Damien's speeches so far rather boring and had taken to blocking most of them out, but he'd been told it would act almost like a bubble; a bubble which only he, Kyle, and any of the other boys could enter. All he had to do was pick the right spot and let the crystal do the rest of the work.

Stepping out of the passageway, Trent glanced around and glad he'd seemed to time his appearance just right, tried to get his bearings, relieved he still remembered the town so well. There was no way of telling for sure if Kyle would come this way, but it was the most plausible route Trent could think of and he at least had the benefit of getting two more uses out of the crystal before it was no longer any good.

Or, so Damien had said.

Heading for a light post, he nodded and guessing the spot was good enough, lifted his hand, allowing the crystal to fall. He watched as it slowed, and instead of hitting the sidewalk, seemed to phase through as if absorbed by the concrete. When nothing else happened, Trent frowned and wondering if it had failed somehow, knelt, a hand reaching for the spot before he felt a wave of power wash over him. Stumbling back, he coughed and not used to that either, shook his head, swearing softly.

Taking a moment to regain his composure, Trent stood and as he went to dust himself off, paused, suddenly noticing the change in his surroundings. Oh, everything still looked the same – all the shops were still there and he could even see a few people heading down the sidewalk, absorbed in conversation, and yet, nothing was the same. It was darker, looking as if the sun had been blocked out, casting a shadow over the area.

Swallowing, Trent turned slowly and studying what he supposed was now an alternate space, frowned. "Well," he muttered, watching as the small group he'd spotted earlier passed right through the shield before moving on, completely unaware, "I guess it works."  


* * *

"We are not picking Hitler, so don't even suggest him."

Tensing at the voice, Cartman snarled softly and taking a moment, turned, glaring at the boy behind him. "I wasn't going to suggest him, Jew, but just know that means we can't do Anne Frank either," he stated, chuckling as he watched Kyle's expression darken before he slammed his locker shut, brushing past the boy.

"I wasn't going to suggest her anyway!" Kyle glared, spinning on his heel as he moved after Cartman and staring darkly at the back of the others head, made an impatient sound. "We have to pick someone for this project though, because I refuse to fail." He'd worked too hard, for too long, to let one little grade his overall average.

"Oh yes, wouldn't want your perfect little grade point average to fall." Coming to a halt, Cartman twisted around and studying Kyle for a long moment, frowned. "Listen, since you care so much about the damn grade, you can pick the person. I don't care who it is, just as long as we can get this over with quickly." Turning, he didn't wait for a reply as he continued toward the school doors, shoving a few of the younger kids out of his way.

Not having expected that reaction, Kyle frowned and guessing there was no need to argue that point, nodded, finally catching up as he fell into step beside Cartman. "Don't think that gets you out of helping, just because I'm picking." He warned, not about to do all the work and let Cartman get a free grade. When a low mutter was his only response, he sighed. "Since we both want this over with quickly, maybe we should get started today? We can get started at my house?"

"Oh? Don't have plans with your little boyfriend?" Cartman questioned, and ignoring the glare this earned him, shook his head. "Then again, since he spends most of his time trailing after that hippie-girlfriend of his, it's not surprising he doesn't have time for you anymore," he said, still finding the entire display the couple put on utterly revolting. "Don't give me that look Jew, it's not my fault he left you for the bitch, hell I'd be grateful if I were you."

Resisting his urge to rise and take the bait, Kyle sighed heavily and trying to remind himself it was all for a grade, shook his head. "I don't care that Stan and Wendy are dating, and the only thing I'm grateful for is that they finally seem to be happy together. So why don't we focus on this project and leave them out of it?" He hoped that with a lack of response, Cartman would let it drop. After all, he'd long since figured out the only reason the other would pick at something was if he knew it bothered a person.

When Cartman said nothing more on the subject, Kyle smiled and following the other down the steps, paused before reaching out, grabbing the others arm. "I forgot, my mom wanted me to pick up some stuff on my way home so let's go the other way," he said, quite glad he'd managed to remember the errand, not wishing to return home empty handed.

"Why should I go on some lame errand with you, Jew? Can't the bitch pick it up herself?" He cursed as Kyle's grip tightened, the boys nails pricking against his skin as he snarled. "Fine, all right let go goddamn it!" Wrenching his arm away from the Jew, Cartman glared and rubbing the spot, frowned. "Jesus, do you file your nails or something?"

Rolling his eyes, Kyle decided not to reply to that, not thinking Cartman needed to know that he did, in fact, file his nails every now and then. He'd taken up the habit after discovering his nails had the annoying habit of breaking at a certain length and while he didn't think it was such a bad thing, he knew the fatass would waste no time in making his life hell over the fact.

"It won't take long," he said, heading down the sidewalk as he sighed, a hand moving to his hair before he glanced back, giving Cartman a dark look. "Also, don't call my mom a bitch, Cartman." It was a waste of breath, he knew, as the boy never listened but Kyle decided it couldn't hurt to try once more. When all he received in response was a shrug, he frowned and simply looked back ahead, realizing his prediction had, indeed, come true.

He was already regretting going to class this afternoon.

* * *

As yet another group of students walked through the bubble, seemingly unaware of its existence, Trent sighed and lifting a hand, raked it through his hair, wondering if he had been wrong to set the trap here. Leaning back against the building, he frowned and deciding to give Kyle at least another twenty minutes before he called the crystal back, he glanced over toward the main street, watching the people pass by.

Trent wasn't sure yet why Damien wanted Kyle. He'd been too concerned with the fact that, only moments after he had accepted the demon-boy's offer, he found himself merely walking out the front doors of the building he had spent a good chunk of his life in. All he knew at this point was that whatever Kyle possessed, it was powerful, Damien wanted it, and thanks to his accepting Damien's help, it was now Trent's job to help the boy get the item.

So, in a way, he wasn't free. He had merely traded one prison for another and though it stung to know he had fallen for that trap, Trent at least had the knowledge that he had fallen for it of his own accord. He would have been a fool to think Damien would help him for nothing and, at the very least, this would give him a chance to get those bastards back for what they did to him. Plus, Damien had been nice enough to give him a little boost, something to help him make sure once he had Kyle caught, the boy wouldn't get away easily.

All he had to do was be patient for his prey to show.

* * *

Shifting the bag in his hand, Kyle headed out of the store and blinking, frowned, not seeing Cartman. He'd left the boy standing right outside the store, and had told him not to move, that he would be right back and he didn't want to wait. Snarling, he cursed Cartman and not about to go look for him, turned around only to slam into something rather solid, sending him stumbling back as he yelped, trying to catch his balance before he felt something grab his arm, steadying him.

"Watch where you're going, Jew," Cartman glared and waiting until the boy didn't look like he was going to fall, let him go, scoffing. "I got tired of waiting, so I went to get a soda, so don't even start bitching," he added, having seen the way Kyle looked upon noticing his disappearance. When a glare was his only response, he rolled his eyes and turned, heading down the sidewalk. "We going or not?"

"I wasn't even in there that long!" He cried, before swearing and moving to quickly catch up to the boy, huffed, slowing once he reached Cartman's side. "You're just impatient, and where's the soda hmm? I don't see any evidence of a soda," he continued, quickly looking to make sure he hadn't missed the item, satisfied when he couldn't spot one.

"Damn thing was flat, so I threw it away." Pausing then, Cartman glanced down and studying Kyle for a moment, shook his head. "Whatever, what did you have to buy anyway?" He asked, and not giving the boy time to reply, reached out, snatching the bag out of Kyle's hands. Holding it up high enough so the other couldn't just grab it back, peered in, not recognizing any of the items. "What the hell is all this crap?"

"It's for dinner tonight," Kyle snapped and grabbing Cartman's shoulder, pushed himself up, managing to yank the bag back as he hopped back, glaring. When Cartman merely smirked, he growled and shoving the bigger boy, stormed ahead, not entirely sure he would be able to handle the other for much longer, grade or no grade. "You are the most annoying--" His words seemed to die in his throat as he felt something heavy pass over him and, realizing it had gone rather quiet, Kyle frowned, turning back.

Cartman was nowhere to be found and for some strange reason, everything looked darker now, as if the area was being overshadowed by something. Swallowing, Kyle took a step back and wondering where everyone had suddenly gone, turned around, trying to calm himself. There had to be a reason for this, a logical explanation and if he could just calm down, he would figure it out. All he had to do was relax, because getting upset would do nothing.

"What the fuck is this?"

Letting out a slight yelp, Kyle spun around and watching as Cartman moved into sight, slumped, glaring at the other boy. "Don't sneak up on…wait, you notice it to then?" Watching as the other just shrugged, he frowned and not thinking the boy would be very helpful, turned back around, taking a moment to study their surroundings, trying to block out Cartman's grumbling.

They were still in South Park, that much was certain as just a few feet away he could see Tom's Rhinoplasty and most of the other buildings looked exactly the same. In fact, nothing really seemed changed except the fact it was far too dark. Where had the sunlight gone? Looking skyward, Kyle frowned and unable to see anything that would be blocking the light, tried to think of something else. Anything else, to explain this.

"Well, it's about time you got here."

The voice startled both Kyle and Cartman, causing the boys to turn, their eyes widening at the sight of Trent Boyette appearing from seemingly thin air. If they noticed the way he seemed to stumble, they chose to ignore it and focus on the fact that the boy who had tried to kill them was once again standing before them, looking rather angry.

"How the hell did you get here?" Cartman asked, seeming to recover first from the shock as he stepped forward, glaring at the other. Behind him, he heard Kyle shift and deciding to ignore the Jew for now, remained focused on Trent, at least glad he stood somewhat of a chance against the boy should he decide to attack.

"That isn't important right now and, if you promise to keep quiet, I might not have to kill you so soon," Trent replied, his eyes sliding toward Kyle, studying the boy he was after. "It's Kyle I'm after, so if you know what's good for you, you'll stay out of this." Giving neither boy a chance to reply, he threw out his hand, deciding now was as good a time as any to test the gift Damien had given him.

Cartman glared and going to question just what the blonde meant, froze, watching with wide eyes as a ball of what could only be called light seemed to appear in Trent's hands. It crackled, almost as if it were electrically charged and he had a vague inclination to call it lightning, though he could not think of why. None of that mattered, however, when he realized just where that ball of light was focused.

Kyle.

He barely had time to react before it was flying toward them and cursing, Cartman spun around, not surprised to see the boy frozen. Not giving himself time to think, he ran and diving forward, slammed into Kyle, sending them to the ground as the blast shot above them, slamming into a nearby building. Wincing as the loud explosion filled the air, Cartman pushed himself up and ignoring Kyle's coughing, turned, glaring at Trent. "What the fuck are you doing?!"

"I told you not to get involved, it's Kyle, not you, I'm here for." Trent sighed and moving toward the pair, snapped, yet another sphere of light appearing in his hand, power crackling over it, relieved this was much easier than teleporting. "Still, I suppose killing you will work just fine, as it means I won't have to bother with it later."

Neither boy could move as Trent approached and, without realizing what he was doing, Kyle reached out, grabbing Cartman's arm. For what, he wasn't sure. Maybe for protection, or maybe for security, or maybe he just wanted some contact with a familiar source before he died. He really didn't know and, at the moment, Kyle didn't think it mattered.

All that mattered was Trent was getting closer and, at the same time, Cartman's hand had moved to cover his own.

The ball of lightning was getting bigger and Kyle knew they wouldn't be able to dodge it, not this time. Unable to watch as his death approached, the red-head closed his eyes and clutching Cartman's hand, could only focus on the simple fact that he did not want to die. He would have done anything to save them, to get out of here and just live.

Cartman wasn't sure why Kyle had grabbed his arm and he couldn't think of why he was now holding the boy's hand, except he wanted to know he wasn't dying alone. Watching as Trent moved closer, the globe of lightning expanding with every step, he frowned. Squeezing the Jew's hand, the brunette glared, knowing at that moment he was going to die and realizing he would do anything to live, to escape this fate. He didn't want to die, not now and most certainly not like this.

Both boys sat frozen, awaiting their fate and wishing, with everything they had, that they could stop it. Then, only a heartbeat later, light exploded, filling the entire area.

Closing his eyes, Trent cursed and halting his advance, forced his eyes open, looking forward as he gasped. The light, which seemed to pulsate, was radiating from Kyle's chest. Wondering if that was related to whatever item Damien was searching for, he took a step back and for the first time since all of this had begun, Trent realized just what he had gotten himself into.

For the first time, he felt trapped.


	3. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** South Park and all of its respective characters are the property of Matt Stone and Trey Parker. I own only this story's plot and any original characters that may pop up from time to time. Also, I am making no profit from this story.

**Warnings:** This story will contain slash (boys love, yaoi, etc.) as well as violence, swearing, and, well, most of the things you would probably hear in a regular episode of South Park. The boys are intended to be between the ages of 16-18 here.

* * *

**Chapter 02**

Squinting at the bright light that now filled the area, Cartman hissed and realizing that, somehow, it was coming from Kyle, leaned closer, letting go of the boy's hand. It seemed to spill out from Kyle's chest and for some reason, it felt warm, almost soothing. Trying to shake those thoughts away, the brunette frowned and quickly looking back at Trent, barely able to make out the boy due to the intense light, he was relieved to see that it had at least managed to stop the crazed man. Not surprising, something that bright coming out of nowhere was enough to make anyone stop.

Turning his eyes back toward Kyle, Cartman frowned and shifting to lean closer to the boy, went to speak before he noticed the look in the Jewish boy's eyes. They were glazed, almost misty, and Cartman was fairly sure that whatever he said, probably wouldn't reach the other. He felt something tighten then and realizing the boy was still holding his arm, looked down, watching as the hand seemed to tug at him. Getting an idea, Cartman swallowed and once again covering Kyle's hand with his own, he tilted closer, quite sure he had seen something flicker in the others green eyes. "Kyle? Jew, if you can hear me, you'd better fucking respond, right now!"

"I don't want to die."

It was his only response, and most certainly not the one he had been expecting. Swearing softly, Cartman frowned and watching as those eyes seemed to finally focus on him, the light around them growing brighter every second, he gripped Kyle's hand tighter, knowing the contact was one of the only things anchoring the boy from whatever trance he was trying to fall into. "I know you don't want to die," he finally replied, trying with all his might to keep his voice as calm as possible. Which didn't really work, but at least he tried.

He felt the hand he was holding pull at him gently and not wanting to risk breaking the contact, allowed Kyle to move their hands, making a slight sound as his palm was placed directly above the light. Warmth radiated from the spot and he felt as if something inside of him was trying to break loose, reacting to the light. Unable to force himself to look away, Cartman sucked in a breath and feeling almost as if the light were trying to work its way inside of him, he snarled, pushing against the other boy's chest. "Jew, I don't know what you--"

"Fight."

The word was said quietly, with no hint of force and yet there was a commanding tone just underneath that seemed to snap something inside of Cartman. Despite everything he was, he felt as if he needed to heed that command but how? He had nothing to fight with and he highly doubted that if he stood to face Trent now, physical strength would be enough against whatever powers the other had gained. He couldn't fight and yet he wanted to, for whatever reason, he needed to fight. He felt Kyle's hand leave his then, and slowly, he pulled his own back, aware that as he did so, some of the light seemed to follow after.

The energy enclosed his hand, and Cartman had an odd sense that this belonged to him. Was a part of him. It felt too much like him, seemed too familiar, for it to not be and yet, there was a hint of Kyle there, just a hint of that warmth he felt from the light that surrounded them. It was different, though, in that it felt more destructive, rather than soothing. This _was_ his own energy, mixed with the power that was coming from Kyle yes, but it belonged to him and he had a hunch that it was from that same part that had reacted to Kyle's earlier command.

Goddamn Jew, now what had he done?

Before he could even begin to try and figure out what was going on, Cartman saw the light around them beginning to dim, watched as it slowly began to ebb away and sink back into Kyle. He saw Trent in front of him, looking shaken and realizing then the other boy was trying to readjust to his surroundings, frowned, glancing toward the orb of energy that still rested in his hand. Something seemed to click in his mind then and, nodding, Cartman fixed his sights on Trent, slowly pushing himself into a standing position.

"I don't know what's going on," he said, raising his voice so he would draw the blonde's attention toward him and, watching as Trent's gaze settled on him, stepped away from Kyle's body. "I don't know why you're here, or what you're after, and frankly I don't fucking care. I just know I'm not dying here, not today and most certainly not by you. If I die, it's going to be in a much cooler way than this and certainly not over some lame daywalker."

It seemed to take Trent a moment before he realized just what was happening and, taking a step back, he snarled, glaring at the boy who now stood before him. He wasn't sure how Kyle had called that power forth, nor was he sure of just where the energy in Cartman's hands had come from, all he knew for certain was it felt powerful. He'd never had to gauge power before, had never needed to look at someone and try to feel just how deep their energy went, and yet he could tell, just by looking at the other boy, that he was strong.

Well, strong or not, Trent knew _he_ had no intentions of dying here either. Calling forth yet another orb of lightning, he pumped everything he had into the ball, knowing that with the more power he fed it, the less chance Cartman had of dodging it. Then, unable to hold it any longer, he threw the blast forward, smirking as the attack hurdled toward the boy at breakneck speed.

The expression dimmed, however, when he noticed Cartman made no reaction to the oncoming attack. Instead, the boy merely lifted his own hand and, waiting only a moment longer, sent his own burst of power forward. The elements met in an explosion of power, the collision sending tremors through the earth and Trent felt his eyes widen as he watched it spiral off, barreling toward the far side of the force field, slamming into the dark wall.

The force was enough to break past the wall and send a thousand tiny cracks running through it, each picking up speed, threatening to break under the pressure. Trent let out a small curse and taking a step back, followed the fractures with his eyes, not surprised when he saw the wall beginning to break, small, jagged pieces falling all around them. Looking back toward Cartman, he snarled and taking a brief moment to weigh his options, knew there was no plausible way he could win today. He had walked into this unaware of the power both boys possessed and that, he knew, was Damien's fault. A fault he would most likely shoulder the blame for, but right now, that was the least of his problems. His first priority, Trent decided, was getting out of here before the crystal's last bit of power shattered.

Giving Kyle one last glance, Trent leapt back and hearing a loud snap, signaling the beginning of the wall's failure, he vanished.

Deciding that however Trent had managed to disappear like that wasn't important right now, Cartman cursed and barely aware of the power in his hand, turned, heading back for Kyle as he grabbed the boy, hauling him up. "Come on Jew, snap out it," he hissed, shaking the boy, all the while trying to avoid the falling debris. The movement seemed to be enough to wake the other boy up, because the next thing Cartman knew his arm was being squeezed and the Jewish boy looked terrified.

"What happened?" Kyle cried, eyes scanning the area frantically before another large piece of the force field fell and he jumped, shoving against Cartman, not seeming to care just how close he was to his self-proclaimed arch-enemy. "It's falling apart! We need to get out of here!" It was only at that moment that he noticed the light held in Cartman's hand and staring at it, frowned. "Why do you still have that?"

"I don't know and right now I don't care!" Cartman snapped, not thinking that was really what they needed to focus on as he turned, jerking Kyle along with him, trying to find a way out of wherever they were. He knew, logically, that getting angry would do nothing, but he felt trapped and it was only serving to fuel his temper. Looking back down at Kyle, he glared. "Can't you do that light thing again or something?!"

"No! I don't even know how I did the first time fatass, how can I just do it again?" Ignoring the way Cartman's grip tightened at his words, he went to speak when a large popping sound rang through the air and feeling his words turn to glass in his throat, Kyle looked upward, eyes widening. The ceiling, if that's what it could be called, had finally given under the pressure and he barely had time to register the fact that yes, it was falling, when he felt himself being thrown to the ground and crushed against Cartman, his eyes squeezing shut as he grabbed the bigger boy in response, both waiting for the impact.

An impact which never came.

Thinking it had turned eerily quiet a little too quickly, Kyle took a deep breath and slowly, allowed his eyes to open, a small gasp following as he took in their surroundings. Everything was back to normal and from what he could see, there didn't seem to be any evidence of the other, dark area they had been in only seconds go. But how could that be? It had been falling apart, there was no way it could have just…vanished. Hearing a small groan then, he blinked and realizing he was still clinging to Cartman, a light sound escaped his throat, which seemed to draw the other boys attention toward him.

They stared at one another for a moment before both let go, scooting back to put a good bit of distance between them and shaking his head, Kyle swallowed, staring at Cartman. The other looked just as confused as the young red-head felt and, seeming to remember they were both sitting on the sidewalk, he stood slowly, wincing at how his body screamed in protest. He had a feeling by tomorrow morning, he wouldn't want to move. Just a few steps away, he heard Cartman curse and guessing he wasn't alone in feeling sore, took a deep breath.

No one seemed to have noticed any of the previous events, as Kyle watched them simply continue on about their day and the only proof he had that they were even really there, that they were still alive, came from the people who had to swerve around them. Mind racing, the Jewish boy groaned and pushing a hand through his hair, went to turn before something caught his eye, causing him to pause as he blinked.

He could see the bag of food supplies he'd bought sitting just a foot away, and by some odd stroke of luck, it looked unharmed. Moving for it, he picked the parcel up and turning back to look at Cartman, bit his lip, wondering just what to say. Shifting, aware that the others gaze was now focused exclusively on him, the red-head made a slight sound and opening his mouth to speak, felt something touch his shoulder, the words turning to ash as a light scream burst from his throat.

Cartman was on him in a heartbeat, yanking him back and Kyle stumbled, trying to regain his balance as he turned, blinking when he saw Ike, his younger brother, standing there, a look of confusion written on his features. Sighing, he shook his head and realizing Cartman was still holding his arm, made a small sound, trying to pull it free. The movement was enough to cause the bigger boy to snarl and let go, shaking his hand as if it were dirty.

Then again, it probably _was_ dirty in Cartman's mind.

"Whoa, calm down, it's only me." Ike laughed, and holding up his hands in a show of mock-surrender, smiled, studying his older brother, the grin seeming to fade slightly. Both boys looked as if they'd been in a fight and he was sure that even if he had startled his brother, it hadn't been bad enough to explain just why he looked like he was about to pass out. "Are you two all right? I saw you both on the ground clinging to each other, did something bad happen?"

It had been quite a sight, and even for Ike, who had seen a good bit in his eleven years of life, it had been a shock. His brother and Cartman hated one another, everyone in town pretty much knew it and he was sure their rivalry had been a driving force behind most of the misfortunes that had befallen South Park. So one can only imagine Ike's surprise when, as he rounded the corner on his way from school, he saw his brother and his brother's arch-enemy sitting on the sidewalk, clutching one another as if the world were ending.

Feeling his face heat at the memory, Kyle swallowed and nodding, forced a smile, laughing oddly. "Yeah, everything's fine! It's nothing, hey why don't we go home now?" Grabbing his little brother's arm, Kyle pulled him forward and turning them around, went to move past Cartman before pausing, glancing toward the brunette. "We'll have to work on the project tomorrow, ok?" Then, not giving the other time to reply, he started off, ignoring his brother's questions of why they were leaving so quickly.

He could feel Cartman's eyes on him and, though he felt bad about just running away, Kyle knew he needed time to process everything that had happened. Because honestly, he didn't have the faintest idea just what the hell _had_ happened and he highly doubted that trying to figure things out with Cartman would be the best thing right now, not when both of them were shaky and just a little scared. Or angry, in Cartman's case.

So, he would go home and he would do his homework, he would eat the meal his mother had planned for tonight, and he would let everything sink in on its own. He just hoped that, at some point tonight, he would be able to get some sleep.

* * *

Trent fought the urge to wince as he felt Damien glide past him, those dark eyes scrutinizing every inch of him and making sure to keep his eyes focused solely on the ground, he swallowed, choosing his words carefully. "I wasn't aware that either of them knew how to use their powers." Which, if he thought about it, wasn't entirely his fault; Damien should have told him they both possessed powers. Not that he would tell the demon-boy that, not after the look he'd been given upon his return.

"Neither was I."

Looking up quickly, Trent blinked and turning to face Damien, frowned. "So, you sent me out there blind? I could have been killed!" It had been one thing to think Damien had merely decided not to tell him, as that would have matched the demon's personality quite well; after all, he would probably find it funny to sit back and watch Trent walk into a fight unprepared. Yet, for Damien to have sent him out there without knowing all the facts himself? That didn't sit well with Trent, not at all.

"I gave you magic, abilities you could use to help you in battle and I gave you something by which you could trap your prey. So no, Trent, I did not send you out there blind." Turning, Damien headed for his throne and taking a seat, sighed, studying his nails. "Plus, don't tell me you've forgotten Trent? So long as you work for me, you cannot die. You can get very close, but so long as our contract exists, death will not be an issue for you."

Somehow, Trent didn't find that very reassuring.

"Come now, don't look like that," Damien continued, having noticed the unpleasant look the other wore as he smirked. "Tell you what, to make up for last time, why don't I give you something to help you? I'm sure with a little extra boost, you'll have no problem taking care of those boys."

"In case you didn't notice, the help you gave me last time didn't exactly work out that well." Trent wasn't sure he wanted anymore of Damien's help, not if near-death experiences were the results. That and, despite not having known the demon for long, Trent knew that smirk never meant anything good for anyone other than Damien.

Waving the words away, Damien chuckled and lifting his hand, snapped, a card appearing before him as he snatched it from the air, holding it between his fingers. Still smirking, he held it up for Trent to see. "This, my dear boy, will be of use to you. Contained within this card is a spirit, a minor demon, who will do your bidding." Letting the card go, he sent it toward the blonde and waiting until the boy had it in his hands, leaned back. "All you need to do is simply focus on bringing the spirit out and it will do as you command."

Bringing the card closer, Trent frowned, thinking it looked almost like a card from any normal deck. Its back was a dark red, with an overlaying pattern of lighter red diamond-like shapes. Turning it over, he blinked and wondering why the other side was blank, decided not to question it, merely placing the item in his pocket. "Not too sure I want to trust this, I mean, that crystal of yours was supposed to be rather powerful and it came down with just one hit."

"That was because I had not designed it for such a magnitude of power. After all, it was both your own attack as well as Cartman's that hit it; obviously, I hadn't intended for something like _that_ to be an issue." Tilting his head to the side, Damien blinked and studying Trent for a long moment, chuckled, his gaze sliding off to the side before he spoke once more. "If, however, you wish to give up I'm sure I can arrange--"

"No, I don't want to give up." The reply was swift and though he hated the almost desperate tone, Trent swallowed, knowing just what 'giving up' would mean. No doubt if he didn't find himself back in juvenile hall, he would find himself someplace much worse and shaking his head, the boy frowned, looking toward the son of Satan. "I'll give it another shot."

* * *

Slamming the front door behind him, Cartman stormed into his house and pausing briefly to throw his coat onto one of the free racks hanging near the entrance way, headed for the stairs, not even caring that no one seemed to be home. He was used to coming home to an empty house, to find that his mother had, once again, gone out for one of her many 'late-night visits' and left him to fend for himself. It stopped bothering him a long time ago, because he'd found there was no use in letting it upset him. He couldn't stop her and, at this point, he couldn't really be bothered to give a fuck where the whore went anymore.

Ascending the stairs two steps at a time, the brunette made for his room and slamming that door behind him, more for the sound than anything else, he leaned against it, trying to control his breathing, glaring darkly at the ceiling. He couldn't remember feeling this angry in a long time, not since that day last month when Kenny had thought it would be funny to see just how Cartman would react to a surprise kiss, after having joked that he could turn any boy gay. To say Kenny hadn't enjoyed the reaction would be an understatement and to this day, the blonde was still a bit cautious to keep his play-flirting to a bare minimum around Cartman, not wishing to end up back in the nurses office with a broken nose and black eye.

He had been furious that day, could remember seeing nothing but red, and yet the anger he felt now was different. It was stronger, but it didn't feel natural. By all accounts, he shouldn't feel _this_ angry over the fact that damned Jew had pretty much ran away without so much as a 'thanks for saving my ass, Cartman' or at the very least, an apology for having dragged him into the whole situation in the first place. No, all he got was the brush off. So while Cartman figured he had the right to be pissed-off, he also knew that, having experienced such things in the past when dealing with the Jew, it shouldn't have sparked such a burning rage.

Yet, that fury swelled inside of him and the fact that he couldn't logically think of a reason to explain it away only made it worse. So here he was, alone, furious and completely at a loss for what to do about it. He supposed he could have stomped over to the Jew's house and yelled at him, as he was prone to doing on many occasions, but Cartman didn't feel much like dealing with either the kike or his bitch mother. No, he had fought one battle today and his body was still reeling from that fight, so there was no need to go looking for another battlefield.

Pushing away from the door, Cartman sighed and lifting his right hand, stared at the palm, frowning deeply as he studied the spot. There was no mark, not even the slightest indication that barely half-an-hour ago, he'd held pure energy in his hand. However, though no physical proof could be seen, the feeling was still present. He still felt it tingle with power, could still feel the warmth that had come from that power. Squeezing his hand shut, he growled and opening it slowly, concentrated, trying to see if he could call forth that energy once more.

A moment passed and nothing happened, then, when he almost let his hand fall, Cartman saw it, a flicker of light. It was nowhere near as powerful as the one he'd made earlier, and for some reason, it didn't feel right; it seemed erratic and out of place, though he didn't understand why. At the moment, though, he also didn't think it mattered. The fact remained that, even while being considerably weaker, he could still use the power he'd unlocked. Or, rather, the power Kyle had forced awake.

_Fight_.

Fucking Jew, all of this had been his fault. If that bitch-mother of his hadn't sent him to do something she could have done herself, they could have taken the short route to Kyle's house and gotten started on that stupid project, then Cartman could have come home, fixed himself something to eat and gone to bed without a care in the world. But no, they'd had to go and pick up some lame ingredients for what he guessed would be a 'kosher-meal' and because of that, Cartman had found himself dragged into whatever business Trent had with Kyle and given this power all because that damn daywalker hadn't wanted to die.

_I don't want to die._

Shaking his head, Cartman snarled and turning, strode over to his door, throwing it open as he headed for the bathroom. He would take a shower, find some food, and not give any of this another thought for the rest of the night. Not Trent, the strange power, and especially not why he'd even bothered to try saving that goddamned Jew-rat. No, tonight, he would rest and deal with calming himself down. Then, tomorrow, he wound find the Jew and straighten all of this out.


	4. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer:** South Park and all of its respective characters are the property of Matt Stone and Trey Parker. I own only this story's plot and any original characters that may pop up from time to time. Also, I am making no profit from this story.

**Warnings:** This story will contain slash (boys love, yaoi, etc.) as well as violence, swearing, and, well, most of the things you would probably hear in a regular episode of South Park. The boys are intended to be between the ages of 16-18 here.

* * *

**Chapter 03**

Stan frowned as he glanced around the crowded hallway and, not seeing any sign of Kyle, sighed, turning to head back to his own locker. He hadn't talked to his best friend since yesterday morning and when he'd gone to look for him after school, Kyle hadn't been anywhere around. The boy hadn't even answered his phone or returned the text Stan had sent him last night, which worried the dark-haired boy. Reaching his locker, he forced the door open and began grabbing books, stuffing them into his backpack, lost in thought.

He was sure he had nothing to worry about, after all if something _was_ wrong, then Stan was sure someone would have told him. He and Kyle had been best friends for, well, most of their life. If anything was going on, Stan thought he would be the first to hear about it; after Kyle's family, of course. Maybe Kyle had just been preoccupied last night? After all, he had been paired with Cartman for that project, and knowing that fatass, poor Kyle was probably expected to do it all by himself. So he'd probably been too busy trying to work on everything to bother with his phone.

"Stan?"

Jumping at the voice, Stan dropped his bag and cursing as it landed on his foot, spun around, ready to snap before he saw who stood there, the anger dying down. Glaring at Kenny, Stan coughed and bending down, grabbed the pack, hauling it back up as he slung it over his shoulder. The blonde was still smirking when Stan looked back at him and, if the look in his blue eyes were anything to go off, he was trying desperately not to laugh.

"Damn it Kenny, don't sneak up on people when they're lost in thought, it's fucking rude," Stan snarled as he leaned back against his locker, the glare darkening when all he received in response was laughter. "Oh yes, laugh it up, you're just lucky this thing wasn't that heavy or my foot could have been seriously hurt. Then where would the football team be huh?" If anything, this caused the blonde to laugh harder. "Shut up, Kenny."

"Sorry dude, but that was sort of funny, I almost expected you to let out a shriek." Wiping his eyes, Kenny smirked and spinning around, fell back against the lockers next to Stan, giving the other a glance. "Have you ever heard Kyle shriek like that? Man, it's priceless, I think he's better at making the sound than most girls. Hell, he does a lot of sounds better than most girls."

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Stan groaned and squeezed his eyes shut, shaking his head. "Dude, for one that's gross and I don't want to hear about any sort of sounds Kyle makes," he started, not about to admit he did sort of agree with the other boy; Kyle had one hell of a shriek, and even if he didn't want to admit it, Stan was pretty sure not even Wendy could match the sound. "Secondly, speaking of Kyle, have you seen him? I've been looking for him ever since I got here but I haven't seen him anywhere."

Raising an eyebrow at the question, Kenny thought for a moment before shaking his head, shrugging then. "No, I think the last place I saw Kyle was history class yesterday, when we got paired up for that lame project." Placing his hands in his pockets then, the blonde chuckled, watching as Heidi and Bebe moved past, sending them a charming smile before turning his attention back toward Stan. "Hey, good job on getting paired with Wendy on that project, what strings did you have to pull?"

"None, we just managed to get lucky." When a snicker greeted his words, Stan glared and sighing, decided not to bother trying to defend himself, knowing it was useless. "Anyway, I'm a little worried about Kyle. Knowing Cartman, the fatass is probably making Kyle do all the work and you know how he gets when it comes to schoolwork." It was true, Kyle was probably the one of the few boys in their grade who took school very seriously and there had been times before when, instead of sleeping or even eating, Kyle chose to study, always claiming he wasn't about to let all of his hard work go to waste.

"Yeah, but this is Kyle we're talking about you know? If anyone can handle Cartman, it's him and I don't think he'd deal with having to do it by himself," Kenny stated, knowing Kyle was one of the few people who could actually make Cartman do something, no matter how much the bigger boy denied it. "Have you checked the library though? I know sometimes he goes there in the morning, to catch up on his studying for whatever reason."

Staring at his friend for a long moment, Stan cursed and unable to believe he had actually forgotten about the library, shook his head, a hand moving to scratch the back of his neck. "No, I forgot all about the library. That's probably where he is! Thanks dude, I knew there was a reason why we keep you around," he teased, shoving the boy gently before pushing away from the lockers. "I'm going to find Wendy first, I kinda blew her off last night without meaning to, you wanna come?"

"Nah, I'm going to go hunt down Butters, I need to see if he picked anyone for our project yet," he claimed, as well pushing off the lockers, stretching. "Plus I know it'll just end with you two making out and as much as I'm usually up for some free porn, I think I'm going to have to pass this morning." He laughed when a shove greeted his words, smirking. "What? It's true, don't deny it Marsh, you have so hit that."

"Dude, you are so perverted." He made no effort, however, to deny the claim as he shook his head, trying to ignore the faint flush he felt creeping up. "Anyway, I'll catch you later then, and if you happen to see Kyle before I do--"

"I'll let him know his dear Stanley is looking for him." Kenny finished, laughing as he managed to successfully dodge the half-hearted punch that came his way. "Now go on and find Wendy, before she notices you haven't paid attention to her in the last five minutes and goes on a war crusade," he stated, making a slight shooing motion with his hands.

Stan merely rolled his eyes and throwing up a hand in farewell, turned, heading toward Wendy's locker, still unable to brush aside the feeling that something _was_ up with Kyle. Still, his talk with Kenny had helped him remember one thing he'd managed to forget about; if there was anyone in the whole of South Park who could stand against Cartman and have a chance to win, it would be Kyle Broflovski.

* * *

Kyle couldn't remember ever feeling as tired as he did today, which given how prone he was to pulling all-nighters in the name of academics, said quite a bit. He was sure he had gotten only an hour's worth of sleep last night, if even that, and the red-head was beginning to regret _not_ taking his mother up on her offer to stay home and get some much needed rest. But no, instead he had merely smiled and assured her that he would be fine, that they had a test today he just couldn't afford to miss. Which wasn't really a lie, they _did_ have a test today; it was just that Kyle could have missed it.

Feeling another yawn work its way up his throat, Kyle quickly covered his mouth and hating how his eyes instantly watered, wiped at them, continuing his trek toward the school's library. It was his usual haven during those odd hours of school where he wasn't in class and he usually preferred spending time in the unused part of the school, thinking it provided a quiet place where he could just relax. That, and well, a little extra studying never hurt anybody.

Today, however, Kyle had no real plans to crack open a book. No, he was going to take advantage of the quiet to get in a little sleep before second period; his first class of the day was calculus and he was so far ahead in that class it wasn't even funny anymore, so he figured that skipping it wouldn't really be much of a problem. The test he'd been so adamant about _not_ missing wasn't until third period and so long as he showed up for that, he didn't think there would be too much of a problem. At least, he hoped it wouldn't be a big deal, or more to the point, he hoped his mother wouldn't find out. He had no idea how the woman got wind of most things, but he also knew that it was something he would never figure out and could only focus on trying to make sure he didn't do anything he wouldn't want her to know.

Hearing the second warning bell ring through the school, Kyle winced and hating how loud that damn thing was, let out a small sigh, at least thankful this part of the school had cleared out after the first bell. The library was located near most of the freshmen classes and that grade-level had a habit of getting to class early. Of course, remembering most of his freshmen teachers and knowing that all of them were still here, he couldn't blame the kids. Rounding the last corner on his journey, Kyle spotted the library sign up a head and smiled, only to have the expression drop when he felt a hand wrap around his arm, yanking him sideways.

Before his brain could register just what had happened, Kyle felt himself being slammed against the wall and coughing, gasped, the hand on his arm gripping harder as another moved to his neck, effectively locking him in place. Struggling lightly against the hold, the Jewish boy finally took a moment to get a look at his attacker, somehow not at all surprised when he saw just who it was. "Cartman, let me go," he hissed, unable to speak any louder due to the hold the larger boy had on his throat.

"Well, good morning to you as well, Jew." The brunette studied the smaller boy for a moment before he glared, the expression casting a dark shadow across his entire face, sending a small shiver down Kyle's spine; he'd stood against Cartman countless times before, but even now, that look was never something he enjoyed being on the receiving end of. "But no, sorry, I don't think I can let you go right now, not until I've had a chance to talk to you about a few things."

In all honesty, Kyle couldn't say he hadn't been expecting this. He'd pretty much ran out on Cartman yesterday and, he knew better than anyone, how the other boy felt about things like that. Yet, as he stood there, fighting desperately to get out of the brunette's hold, Kyle could safely say he hadn't expected for the other boy to be _this_ pissed-off. Angry, sure, but not looking at him with such rage that he had to wonder just what was keeping Cartman from hitting him. Or, well, worse.

"What did you do to me?"

The words came out in a low, almost animal-like, snarl and for a long moment, Kyle could only stare helplessly at the other, unable to connect the question to anything in his mind. Then, as the shock seemed to fade, it clicked and he swallowed, shaking his head, a hand moving to grab the boy's arm, taking only a brief pause to notice that his fingers couldn't quite wrap around the limb fully before he opened his mouth, grasping for something, _anything_, to say.

"If you're talking about what happened yesterday, then I don't know." Not the best choice of words, but at the moment, Kyle couldn't think of anything else. He'd always prided himself on being intelligent, on having the answers at all times and being able to look at things with a logical stand-point, to take a situation and break it down until it would make perfect sense. However, yesterday had stumped him, had left him utterly at a loss for an explanation and he hated it. He hoped, silently, that Cartman would see that he was just as confused, that for once, he didn't have an answer for this situation.

"Don't lie to me, you goddamn daywalker," Cartman growled, his grip tightening as he leaned closer, eyes dark with fury. "You did something to me yesterday, you and that weird power of yours, and I want to know what it was. I want to know," he paused and letting the hand around Kyle's neck drop, took a slight breath, the energy appearing in his palm, flaring wildly, "why I can do this now. It has something to do with you, and don't try to say it doesn't, I can feel _you_ in this energy Jew. It's not that strong, but there's something of yours there and I want to know why."

Kyle stared at the orb of power resting in Cartman's hand and shaking, lifted his hand, having the sudden urge to touch it. His fingers brushed against the energy and he swore that, for just a brief moment, he saw the other shiver at the contact. He didn't know what possessed him to reach out for the power, but from the moment he touched it, he realized Cartman was right. There was something about that energy that felt familiar, and sucking in a short breath, he slowly pulled his hand back, looking toward Cartman.

"If you want to talk about this, we can, but first you're going to have to let me go," he said, trying to keep his voice calm and leveled, purposely leaving any insults out of the statement. He was tired, shaken, and so completely lost that right now, he didn't have the will to bother fighting a verbal match against Cartman, much less trying to hold his own in a physical battle. When he felt the hold on his arm loosen just a bit, he pressed on. "Cartman, let me go." Finally, after a brief pause, Kyle felt his arm being released and trying to rub some feeling back into the limb, nodded toward the library. "Come on, we can talk in there."

"No, we can talk right here." Cartman said, and though Kyle had no desire to have such a conversation in the hallway, right out in the open, he decided that arguing with the other boy would only lead to them spending more time avoiding the actual subject. Staring at the bigger boy for a few minutes, Kyle sighed before simply nodding, hoping that his willingness to go along with the other would help calm him down. He couldn't remember seeing Cartman this angry in a long time, and though he would never admit it aloud, it sort of scared him, if only because he knew that most of it was his fault. Which, in turn, only served to make him feel guilty.

Leaning back against the wall, the Jewish boy let out another long breath before sliding down into a seated position, not really caring that this left Cartman pretty much towering over him. After a moment, he saw the other boy move to his side, though he continued standing. How was he supposed to have a conversation like this with his worst enemy? Out of every single topic he'd ever imagined discussing with the boy, this had never once crossed his mind. Hugging his knees to his chest, Kyle took a deep breath and, deciding that if he really was as smart as everyone said he was, then now would be a grand time to prove it.

"I was telling the truth before, that I don't know what I did to you. To be honest, a lot of what happened yesterday is sort of a blur to me." He hoped he didn't sound as nervous as he felt, but when he heard nothing from the other boy, he swallowed, continuing. "I remember walking into some weird place, and I remember Trent attacking us, but then things start to get a little fuzzy. I know I did something, but I just – I can't remember what it was exactly.

The next thing I _do_ remember, is that place falling apart around us and thinking we were going to die, then all of a sudden, we were back in town. Actually," he paused then and frowning, shook his head, "I don't think we left town at all. Still, I am sorry for running off yesterday but, dude, I was scared. I didn't know what was going on and there was this block in my memory that wasn't clear and, well, I ran and for that I apologize."

"You see the power I have in my hand, right?" The calm tone in which the question was asked caused Kyle to look upward, his gaze fixing on Cartman's face before he nodded, seeing the orb flicker out of the corner of his eye. "Well, the same type of power was coming from you but it was much, much stronger. Filled that entire fucking place. Sent you into some weird trance."

Eyes wide, Kyle made a small sound and looking back down, lifted a hand, staring at it as if it were some newly-grown limb. He couldn't believe that type of power could come from him, but a part of him knew it would make sense in at least one regard; after all, if unleashing that much power was indeed what he'd done, then the trance-like state Cartman mentioned would account for why his memory was so fragmented.

"Then, you said you didn't want to die and told me to fight." He felt Cartman move then and tilting his head back, watched as the boy shifted to stand in front of him before he knelt, the glare still in place. Kyle made a light noise as Cartman's hand reached out, the energy seeming to grow stronger the closer it got, before it was placed against his chest, a small gasp following the touch. "The light was coming from this spot and you put my hand here. When I pulled it back, I had my own energy, so you did something. I just want to know what it was."

Allowing the boy's words to sink in, Kyle frowned and looking down at the hand pressed against his chest, he swallowed, able to feel the power seeping into his body. It was hot, and he could almost liken it to standing just a little too close to a fire; the heat was just a tad stronger than you might want, and yet, there was something about it that wasn't completely unbearable. As he watched the energy in Cartman's hand glow brighter, the red-head found himself wondering if he could call _his_ power forth again, without the threat of death. Was it something he could manipulate at will? Or was the power something that came only when he needed it, when it was necessary?

Only one way to find out.

He had no idea what to look for as he closed his eyes, and not having much to go on, tried reaching out to Cartman's power. The other boy had said he'd received his power only after coming into contact with Kyle's, so perhaps the reverse would work here? He tried to ignore the hand pressing against his chest and merely focused on the energy that was slowly seeping into his body. Then, he felt it, something stir within him, sparking to life and almost immediately, warmth was spreading through him, causing a soft gasp to break from his throat. Hesitantly, he opened his eyes and seeing the odd look on Cartman's face, glanced down, staring at the dim light emitting from his chest.

So, this was his power? Kyle wasn't sure what to make of it, he just knew it certainly didn't feel all that strong at this moment, though he supposed that would make sense. He wasn't in any immediate danger, so perhaps the power was simply answering his call while conserving its own energy, for when he might need it again? Frowning then, the red-head looked up and finding Cartman's gaze just a little unnerving, forced himself to speak, hoping he wouldn't sound completely stupid

"Maybe you already possessed your own power, and coming into contact with my own was just what yours needed to, uh, awaken?" It sounded ridiculous when he said it aloud, but at this point, Kyle decided it was quite possibly the only theory that made the most sense. He was beginning to have a hard time really focusing on the conversation, wondering if perhaps this was a side-affect of using his power or coming into contact with Cartman's. Lifting a hand, he placed it over the larger one covering his chest before pulling them away, trying to ignore the odd tingling sensation that was left in its place.

"As interesting as that theory sounds, that isn't what I wanted to know, Jew." The sound of the other boy's voice was enough to help clear some of the fog creeping around Kyle's mind and frowning, he sighed, letting go of Cartman's hand before leaning back against the wall, aware that with the break in contact, the light held by both seemed to weaken dramatically. "I wanted to know what you fucking did to me."

"Cartman, I don't know what else--"

"Why did I protect you?! Why the fuck did I even care about saving your sorry ass and why the fuck am I so angry?!" Cartman's voice filled the empty hallway, echoing loudly and causing Kyle to wince, his ears ringing from experiencing the noise up close. Before he could even try to respond, he felt the other pull away and watched as Cartman stood, hands clenched, his brown eyes narrowed as they bore down at the Jewish boy. Looking into those eyes, Kyle saw something just beyond the rage, something that gave the anger fuel.

He knew, then, just why the other was so furious.

"You're confused, Cartman, and that's making you angry. As for why you wanted to save me, well, I can't really answer that because honestly? I don't get it either." Placing his hands on either side of himself, Kyle stood, using the wall behind him as a prop, aware that the brunette watched his every move. "You keep trying to pin the blame on me, which isn't at all unlike you, and yet you don't seem to realize that I'm just as lost as you. What happened yesterday is something that I can't explain and I certainly didn't do anything to you on purpose. I can't apologize for something I didn't do, Cartman."

The fist came at him so quickly Kyle barely had time to register what it was before it slammed into the wall beside his head and he flinched, at least grateful that the power exploding from the larger hand seemed to taper off before reaching him. Cartman was leaning closer, stopping only when their faces were inches apart and Kyle could literally feel the heat, the energy, rolling off the larger boy. It tugged at something strange within the Jewish boy and he found himself reaching out, hands moving for Cartman's chest, unable to deny the need for some form of contact, ignoring the way any logical part of his mind screamed for him to stop.

They stood like that for a long moment, before finally, Kyle tilted his head so that he could meet Cartman's gaze, almost wishing he hadn't the moment their eyes locked. There was a look in those eyes that the red-head just could not place and not at all liking that he couldn't tell what the other boy might be thinking, he went to speak before a shrill ringing echoed through the hall, effectively breaking the spell that had fallen over the boys. Almost instantly, Cartman shoved away from Kyle, looking torn between shock and anger.

Then, he turned and without giving Kyle time to react, ran, disappearing into the oncoming crowd of freshmen. The Jewish boy stared after him for just a minute more before he swallowed and, letting out a shaky sigh, pushed away from the wall, trying to ignore the glances he received from the passing students. They were wondering, no doubt, just why the junior was standing in the middle of the hallway, looking as if he'd just seen a ghost.

Groaning loudly, Kyle lifted a hand and running it through his curly hair, turned, making his way down the opposite end of the corridor, cursing the fatass for the headache he could feel creeping up on him. He felt, if it was possible, even more confused than before and he knew that, for the rest of the day, the previous events would be the only thing on his mind.  


* * *

Resting his cheek against the palm of his hand, Stan sighed and wishing there were a way to make Mr. Worden's lectures at least a little interesting, he frowned, trying to block out the man's droning voice. After giving the clock yet _another_ quick glance, the dark-haired boy bit his lip and, turning his head ever so slightly, let his gaze wander toward Kyle who sat just a few tables back, his frown only deepening as he studied his best friend.

The other boy looked utterly exhausted, his eyes fluttering closed for brief moments only to snap open immediately after, and it was fairly obvious that he wasn't really hearing a thing the teacher was saying, seemingly more focused on trying not to pass out to actually bother taking notes. Even from the slight distance that fell between them, Stan could see just how pale the other was, which while not uncommon for the boy, just looked even worse today, as if he didn't have an ounce of color left in his skin.

He didn't know why Kyle was so tired, he'd barely had time to even say hello after the other had darted into the room, beating the final bell by only a few scant seconds. The very fact that Kyle had almost been late to class was enough to send up the first warning flag in Stan's head; he'd known the other boy since pre-school and the red-head was _never_ late to class without a damn good reason. Now, seeing his friend not even attempting to pay attention, told Stan only one thing.

Something was wrong.

Seeing something shift in the corner of his eye, Stan twisted his head a bit further and spotting Cartman, glared, realizing that the larger boy kept stealing his own glances toward Kyle, though in the brunette's case, each look only served to make his expression darken more. Simply going off years of experience, Stan was willing to bet that both Kyle's exhaustion and Cartman's anger were connected somehow, though he couldn't fully say _how_, he just knew that, after seeing the two fight countless times, the signs were pretty much easy to spot a mile away.

No doubt, his earlier fear had, indeed, been ground in truth. Kyle was being forced to take on the workload of their history project by himself and he'd probably stayed up all night working on both it and his other homework, while studying for the test they had in English. Not that Kyle needed to study, Stan was pretty sure the other was doing better than anyone else in that class, but that never seemed good enough for his best friend.

"Stanley Marsh, is there something more interesting than the lesson?"

Jumping at the voice, Stan blinked and turning back around, flushed, realizing Mr. Worden's gaze was fixed solely on him. Making an odd, strangled sound, he swallowed and simply shook his head, sinking down just a little in his chair. Waiting until the man had turned back to his notes, Stan frowned and stealing yet another glance over his shoulder, saw Cartman once again staring at Kyle, who appeared to have finally given into his body's desire for sleep.

Turning back toward Mr. Worden, Stan sighed and sure now that something was very, very wrong with this entire thing, felt his frown deepen, knowing he'd have to corner Kyle later. He knew it wouldn't be an easy task; the Jewish boy hated involving Stan in any of his fights with Cartman, somehow seeing it as cheating or giving up. However, if the fatass was making Kyle lose sleep over a stupid project, then Stan would be damned if he'd just sit back and let it happen.

That's not what super best friends did, after all.


	5. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer:** South Park and all of its respective characters are the property of Matt Stone and Trey Parker. I own only this story's plot and any original characters that may pop up from time to time. Also, I am making no profit from this story.

**Warnings:** This story will contain slash (boys love, yaoi, etc.) as well as violence, swearing, and, well, most of the things you would probably hear in a regular episode of South Park. The boys are intended to be between the ages of 16-18 here.

* * *

**Chapter 04**

Staring up at the old building, Trent frowned and unable to believe just how long it had been since he'd walked through those halls, sighed, pushing a hand through his hair. He'd only been in preschool when the accident had occurred and here he was, going on nineteen, seeing his school for the first time in almost fourteen years. It was sort of sad, in a way.

Shoving those thoughts aside, he turned and leaning back against the gym, frowned, watching with little interest as a few teachers strolled by, quite thankful that none of them could see him inside the force field. Though, it was odd watching them walk right into the shield only to pass through the other side without so much as noticing a difference. Not that it was surprising, the adults in this town had never been known for their skills of perception. Half the time, they didn't even know what was going on around them.

Knowing he had at least a few more hours before school let out, Trent shifted and deciding he had nothing else to do with his time, reached into his back pocket, pulling the card Damien had given him out. No matter how many times he looked at the item, it never felt like anything more than a regular playing card, right down to its hideously designed back. _When you have need, simply call the demon forth_ was what Damien had told him, and yet, he'd conveniently left out any information concerning just how Trent was supposed to 'call the demon forth' in the first place.

Holding the card out at arms length, he tilted his head and guessing anything was worth a shot, tried shaking it, idly wondering if doing so would piss off whatever demon lived inside of it enough for the creature to come out. When nothing happened after a few long minutes of endless shaking, Trent growled and pulling the item closer, glared. Briefly toying with the idea of yelling at the card, he shook his head. No, he was not going to make a fool of himself by screaming at some scrap of paper in hopes that maybe, just maybe, _something_ might pop out.

Just knowing that somewhere, Damien was most likely watching this and getting a right kick out of it, the blonde let out a long breath, trying to relax. It wouldn't do him any good getting frustrated now, no matter how much he wanted to rip the damn thing apart. Turning the card over, Trent snarled and not in the mood to figure it out right now, threw it off, watching as it hit the far wall of the shield, bouncing off before falling to the ground.

"Well, if there is a demon in that thing, it must be pretty weak," he muttered, falling back against the building as he groaned, beginning to wonder just why he had taken Damien's offer. Sure, he wanted revenge, but this was turning out to be a bit more than he bargained for. Sighing, he moved to sit down when a soft rustling sound caught his attention and, looking up, felt his eyes widen, watching as the card began to drift upward, a soft light shining from the blank side.

_Finally_, was all he could think as he quickly straightened.

Swallowing, Trent took a few tentative steps forward only to falter, the light beginning to flash wildly, causing him to shield his eyes. Starting to grow just a little tired of these sudden bursts of light that seemed to be plaguing him, he snarled and wincing when a loud popping sound filled the area, lowered his hand, going still at the sight that greeted him.

A small, odd looking creature now stood where the card had been only seconds before. He was a strange sight, standing at only three feet, with icy blue skin and a rather spiky, forked tail whipping wildly behind him. Dressed in a tattered, black suit that looked absolutely absurd on his tiny frame, he stared back at Trent smugly, dark purple eyes glinting in the dim light of the force field, lips pulled back into a wide smirk. After a long staring match, the demon lifted a clawed hand and, in a quick motion, swiped the top hat from his head, bowing deeply.

"I am Aradion de Batalla, and I am here to serve you." His voice was rather high-pitched, carrying with it an almost scratchy quality. When no response greeted Aradion, he frowned and placing the hat back upon his head, raised an eyebrow, tail snapping behind him. "Are you mute boy? Or just stupid?" A snarl met his words, causing the demon's smirk to reappear. "Good, I had hoped Damien didn't give me to a fool."

"You're the demon that's supposed to help me? You look more like a leprechaun," Trent muttered, not seeing how such a tiny, ridiculous creature was supposed to help him catch Kyle. "Can you do anything useful? Or are you just supposed to scare people off?" He joked, soft laughter following his words before the sound changed suddenly, turning into a slight cry as the ground beneath his feet shifted, sending him stumbling back.

"I am no leprechaun boyo, I may be small but I assure you," Aradion began, giving his wrist only a slight flick, watching as the earth settled, his smirk widening. "I do possess power. Did you think Damien would give you a worthless demon? He may like to make things interesting, but I can tell that whatever he is after this time, is important enough that even he is willing to be serious."

Glaring at the creature, Trent took a moment to regain his balance before brushing himself off, guessing that looks didn't mean much in the demon world when it came to power. "So, Aradion was it? What can you do exactly?" Even if he wasn't keen on working with the demon, the blonde decided that any extra power could at least prove somewhat useful.

"Various things, really. I, as you just experienced, have some expertise in the use of elemental magic, namely earth-based powers, though I can of course create demon-fire. With that, I also possess the typical abilities found in most demons." Aradion paused then, taking a moment to adjust his hat before he vanished, reappearing just beside Trent, chuckling when the boy jumped. "Teleportation happens to be one of those typical abilities."

"Ha ha, real funny," Trent snarled, taking a few steps away from the demon, beginning to think this might not be the safest partnership, extra powers or no. After all, it wouldn't do him much good to work with something that might just turn around and kill him. How could Trent actually tell if Aradion was loyal enough to Damien and wouldn't turn on him? "How can I trust you? If you really have those kind of powers, then how can I be sure you won't decide to betray both me and Damien somewhere down the line?"

Aradion tilted his head, staring up at the boy with a quirked eyebrow, his gaze darkening. "I am no fool, boy. Just because I possess the powers I do, I've never once deluded myself into thinking I could take on Damien. He's more powerful than you seem to realize and the quicker you learn that, the easier time you'll have serving under him." Watching as the human's expression shifted, he chuckled, shaking his head. "I don't know what he might have told you, or what you might have thought, but you're under his command now and until he decides you're no longer of any use to him, he won't be letting you go.

You wield power now, yes? Well what price do you think you had to pay for that power? You belong to Damien now and, I speak from experience when I tell you, that once he claims something as his, it's impossible to escape."

As much as Trent didn't want to accept that, in some small way, it made sense. Of course he'd known from the start that he was only trading one prison for another, and he wasn't stupid enough to have ever believed that once Kyle was caught, Damien would just let him walk away. No, Trent had signed away both his life and his immortal soul to the other boy, and just because Damien got what he wanted didn't mean he would just give those things back.

Still, hearing it said out loud was rather depressing.

"We're both pawns in Damien's little game then, huh? Fine, if that's the case then I guess I have no other choice but to trust you for now." Hearing a bell ring in the building behind him, signaling the changing of classes, Trent smirked and turning to face his old school, chuckled, arms crossing. "Well then demon, school's almost out, so it won't be long before you get to show me some of those powers you seem so keen to brag about."

Watching the boy for a moment, Aradion laughed and thinking that just perhaps, this human was more interesting than he'd originally thought, nodded, moving to stand beside him, eyes drifting toward the school. He would play this game, and he would play with everything he had, because he knew somewhere, Damien was watching this. And maybe, with any luck, he would get some entertainment of his own out of this.

* * *

Kyle was beginning to think that, somewhere, whatever deity was on watch right now really had it out for him. Risking a glance toward Cartman, he sighed, wanting nothing more than to just go home, crawl into bed, and forget the last two days had ever happened. Yet, instead, here he was, sitting in chemistry class with the very boy he did _not_ want to associate with right now sitting beside him. Apparently, the teachers in this school had taken it upon themselves to make sure that, whenever there was a joint project, Kyle Broflovski and Eric Cartman were to be partners.

It had to be some type of conspiracy.

Placing a hand against his forehead, the young Jewish boy sighed and wishing that at least his headache would go away, frowned, allowing his eyes to close. This was just too much for one person to handle in such a short time span, even for someone like him. He'd dealt with a lot in his life, from aliens to evil cults to Barbra Streisand, but Kyle was pretty sure this was one of the most stressful situations he had been thrust into. The fact that it also involved Cartman just added to the strain.

Not that the other boy seemed willing to acknowledge it. After their encounter this morning, Cartman had pretty much decided to pretend that Kyle didn't exist and, while a part of him was happy that he wouldn't have to deal with the arguing, another part of him felt betrayed. Whether Cartman wanted to admit it or not, they were both involved in this, and Kyle didn't think it was very fair that he was the only one who seemed to be worried about it. He also didn't think it was fair that all of the blame was falling on his shoulders; it wasn't as if he had told the other boy to help him, even Trent had given him the option to walk away, but the brunette _had_ stayed and now, because of that decision, he wanted to say it was Kyle's fault.

Not only that, but Kyle knew, the moment they were out of class, Stan would be on his case again. He'd already been jumped by his best friend after their last class and as much as he appreciated the others worry, he also had no intention of telling Stan what had happened. Not yet, anyway. He wasn't even fully sure what was going on himself and he knew that bringing Stan into this would just complicate things, especially if he wanted to get anywhere with Cartman, because he would be damned if he'd just let the other boy sit back while he dealt with this alone.

"Jew, pay attention."

Making a small sound at the voice, Kyle jumped and straightening, moved to grab his fallen pencil, cursing when his hand knocked into the beaker that sat just a few inches away. Before he could catch it, the glass fell over, its liquid contents quickly spilling onto Cartman's hands, causing the boy to hiss as Kyle gasped. He had no idea what had been in the beaker, he'd been so lost in thought ever since sitting down that he hadn't bothered paying any attention to the teacher's instructions, but as he watched the other boy's hands turn a bright shade of red, he knew it couldn't be good.

Without thinking, he reached out and grabbing Cartman's hands, squeezed, watching as the same light from before appeared, the glow stretching out to cover the others wounds. Kyle didn't really know what he was doing, nor could he remember trying to call the power forth, just that he was pretty much working off a combination of instinct and adrenaline. It was his fault the other boy had been hurt, and so, he wanted to fix it, if only because he didn't need _that_ being held over his head along with everything else.

Risking a quick glance, Kyle saw the shocked expression that now covered the others features and not wanting to meet Cartman's gaze, tilted his head back down, just in time to see the light start to die away. Slowly, the Jewish boy released his grip, the light following in suit as it faded away, before finally vanishing. Pulling his own hands back, Kyle swallowed, seeing no hint of the redness that had, just seconds before, marred the others flesh. Unable to believe that had worked, the red-head looked up and not surprised to find Cartman staring at him, shifted. No doubt, the other was trying to figure out why he'd been healed and how, but at the moment, Kyle wasn't sure he could, or even wanted to, answer that.

"What happened here? Were you two paying any attention to the lesson?"

Turning to face the elderly woman, Kyle felt his mouth go dry and finding no words to respond with, merely shook his head, quickly breaking eye contact. She didn't seem at all concerned with the fact he'd just healed Cartman, or that he'd conjured up that power in the middle of class, just that there was a rather large puddle of whatever chemical they'd been given now sitting on their desk. When the teacher simply sighed and ordered Kevin to grab the cleaning supplies, Kyle let out a breath of relief, feeling his shoulders slump. She must not have seen the display, something the red-head was very grateful for; if he was hesitant about telling his best friend, there was no way he would want to share any of this with his chemistry teacher.

Looking back at Cartman, Kyle saw that the boy was once again facing the other way and frowning, guessed it would be best to leave it alone for now, not wishing to draw anymore attention to himself right now. He knew that little accident had just made matters worse, but as he stood to help Kevin tidy up their table, Kyle also knew there was no way he would just sit back and let Cartman ignore this. Like it or not, whatever was going on involved both of them, and if he had to make the brunette see that, well, he'd stood against the other boy before, he would do it again if he had to.

As Kyle continued cleaning, thanking Kevin for his help, he failed to notice the other boy who sat near the back of the class, blue eyes wide as they watched the Jewish boy finish his task. Kyle had no idea that Stan, the very person he didn't want knowing about any of this, had just seen the entire display.

* * *

What the hell?

Squeezing his eyes shut, Stan quickly ducked his head and letting out a shaky breath, swallowed, trying to calm his racing mind. There was no way he could have seen what he thought he had, because it didn't make any sense on so many levels that the dark-haired boy was sure it would take him all day just to go through them all. When he heard the old woman resume her lecture, he cracked an eye open and looking up, saw Kyle was once again in his seat, gaze locked on the front of the classroom. A new beaker sat beside him, though at this point in time, it was empty.

Eyes opening fully now, he turned his head and spotting Cartman sitting near the far end of the table, Stan frowned. From his new spot, he couldn't see the other boy's hands, but he didn't really need to; they were unscathed, despite the chemical spill that had taken place only seconds ago. Which was when…no. Shaking his head furiously, Stan tore his gaze away from the brunette and focusing on Kyle once more, glared. There was no way he'd just seen his best friend heal Cartman, because one, Kyle hated Cartman. They were enemies, always against one another and unless something had changed in the universe, there was no way helping your arch nemesis could be considered right.

Secondly, to heal someone, one usually had to possess some type of power (according to all those fantasy movies he'd seen) and, after having known Kyle for most of their lives, Stan was pretty sure the other boy didn't have any magical powers. So either his best friend was very good at keeping his powers hidden or Stan was beginning to see things; neither option seemed very desirable, and at the moment, he wasn't sure which he preferred. Seeing things that weren't there or finding out his super best friend had been lying to him all these years.

Shoving a hand through his hair, wincing when he hit a knot, Stan sighed, still not sure what to make of this situation. He already had enough to worry about concerning Kyle, he certainly did not need something like _this_ added to the stress. Especially not when this stress also included Cartman, who, despite Stan's reluctance to admit it, seemed to be directly connected to the issues surrounding Kyle.

Stan had the distinct feeling he was much too young to be dealing with these kinds of things.

Yet, he knew there was no way he would simply sit back and let it pass by without even trying to do something about it. So, he would do what he'd set out to do that morning; he would find Kyle after school and demand to know just what was going on. A part of him wanted to do it now, to drag the boy out of the class and make him talk, but that wouldn't do any good. Kyle didn't respond well to anger, except to get angry himself, and if they were both trying to hurt one another Stan wouldn't get the answers he wanted.

After school was the only option, the only time he could get the boy alone and not have to worry about others overhearing them. It didn't matter if Kyle wanted to talk about it or not, Stan refused to go home without knowing something.

* * *

Sometimes, you wake up in the morning and know, without a shadow of doubt, that the day you're about to face is not going to be a good one. It doesn't really matter what happens, when or even how, because it's simply the knowledge that it _will_ happen that truly makes your day horrible; that makes going on and facing each obstacle just that much harder. Sometimes, nothing happens and yet you're still left with that awful, sinking feeling that refuses to let go. Sometimes, everything that could go wrong, does, and still, that feeling never leaves.

Eric Cartman was, unfortunately, having one of the latter days.

Shoving his way through the crowded hall, Cartman frowned and trying to ignore the voice that kept calling for him to stop, headed past his locker, knowing that the sooner he got out of the building, the better it would be for everyone. He was too close to exploding, and the longer he rode this mood, the more likely he was to just letting go of what little control he had left and hurting somebody, anybody, to see blood.

He knew, somewhere in the small part of his mind that was still thinking logically, that avoiding both Kyle and the whole situation wasn't a good idea. Things like this weren't easily pushed aside and though he might be able to get away for now, he knew eventually it would catch up to him and, more than likely, blow up in his face. Still, as Cartman pushed his way through the school doors, he decided that at the moment, he would take that risk.

"Cartman!"

Wincing at just how loud the sound had become, Cartman snarled and spinning around, took a few steps back, not having expected to find Kyle quite so close. How the hell had he caught up so quickly? Taking a moment to compose himself, the brunette glared and shaking his head, turned, in no mood for the damn daywalker. He paused, however, when he felt a hand wrap itself around his wrist. The touch was unexpected and sent a ripple of electricity through his body, leaving him frozen.

What the hell was that?

"Cartman," Kyle began once more, apparently unaware of the effect his touch had on the bigger boy, "I know you probably don't give a damn about what happened, but like it or not, we're going to talk about this. I'm not about to let you pretend nothing's wrong and leave me to deal with all of it. Not this time."

The voice broke through the haze that was trying to settle in his mind and, with a soft growl, Cartman tore his arm away, giving Kyle a dark glare. "There's nothing to talk about, Jew, because I'm not a part of whatever the fuck is going on," he hissed, just barely aware of the stares they were beginning to attract; it was common knowledge to the other students that if Eric Cartman and Kyle Broflovski were this close, sparks were going to fly.

Today, however, Cartman had no intention of sticking around to combat his hated rival and, instead, he turned on his heel, continuing his trek away from the school. Anger flooded through him, threatening to send him over whatever unstable edge he was still clinging to and he had a feeling if he didn't find some way to let this rage out very soon, he would end up doing something he'd regret. And it was rare that Eric Cartman did _anything_ he regretted.

He felt, rather than heard, Kyle's movements behind him and he found it unsurprising that the boy was still pursuing him. A part of him screamed to stop, to stand and fight, to use this as a way to get the anger out but, even Cartman knew that would be pointless. Oh, it would help a little, would let him scream and shout and even land a few hits, but he had a feeling when he walked away, the cold rage would still be there under the simmering anger.

Taking a sharp left, he headed for the gym, deciding that he would take the back way home this afternoon. Not necessarily because it took a little less time, but he had a feeling that the less people he ran into, the less likely he was to kill someone. Behind him, Kyle was silent, and though it did little to help the annoyance that he was being followed, the fact the Jew wasn't screaming his name helped just slightly.

"Jew, I won't tell you again, leave me alone." He didn't bother to raise his voice this time as they had long since left the rest of the student body behind. When the footsteps behind him did not falter, he stopped and taking a deep breath, turned to face the red-head, eyes narrowing. "What the hell do you want from me? A thank-you for the little stunt you pulled earlier? Because if I remember correctly, it was your fault and I never asked you to heal me."

"I don't want any sort of gratitude from you, Cartman, because I know that's not really something you're capable of," Kyle responded and Cartman wasn't sure what pissed him off more, the sheer calmness in which the other spoke or the insult to his character. "I just want you to acknowledge what's happened and talk about it, so we can figure out what's going on."

Cursing quietly, Cartman shifted his bag and lifting a free hand, pushed it through his hair, unable to remain still. "You just don't get it do you? I don't want to talk or figure anything out, you idiot, I just want to go home and forget this ever happened. I thought you were supposed to be smart or something, can't you just figure it out yourself?"

Not giving the other time to reply, he pushed himself forward, forcing his body to continue onward, trying to ignore the odd clinching he felt in his stomach. It was then that he heard a cry behind him and before he could look back, he felt something slam into him, realizing only a split second later that Kyle had charged him. Stumbling forward, he went to grab the Jew's arm when he shuddered, having the oddest sensation of falling through what felt like a web.

Hitting the concrete, Cartman gritted his teeth and gripping Kyle's arms, allowed his body to adjust for just a moment before he shoved the boy off, sitting up quickly, needing only another moment to realize the slight difference in their surroundings. The area was the same, and yet everything looked darker, as if a shadow had come along and swallowed everything. He could only remember seeing this before when…

"Oh no, not again," he heard Kyle whisper and that was all he needed to confirm his suspicions. Looking toward the other boy, Cartman frowned, a little taken aback by the fear that gripped his features. The look caused something within him to twist, and he snarled, tearing his eyes away, frowning when it did little to alleviate the sensation. Needing something to do then, he stood and dusting himself off, glanced around, seeing no sign of Trent. He knew the boy was there, somewhere (hell he could practically _feel_ the other), he just couldn't figure out where.

Behind him, he heard Kyle stand and making no move to stop him, allowed the boy to shift closer, guessing at least this way he could make sure the Jew wouldn't do anything to get them both killed. Dropping his bag to the ground, Cartman lifted a hand and taking a short breath, watched as his palm filled with light, a little surprised at how strong it felt. Glancing back, he gave Kyle a quick look, eyes dark. "Stay behind me and don't do anything stupid, Jew."

"Aw, how sweet, you're quite the protector."

Both boys turned, their gaze landing on Trent who stood only a few feet away, a satisfied smirk on his lips. It was the creature that stood beside him, however, that soon caught their attention. Cartman wasn't entirely sure what it was, with his blue skin and odd little tail, but he had a feeling that knowing it's species didn't really matter; it was making sure those long, razor-like claws didn't get too close for comfort.

He watched as Trent pushed away from the wall, a sphere of lightning-like energy filling his hand and feeling his own power flare in response, Cartman glared, taking a step forward. The need to fight was once again flowing through him and though he knew it was Kyle's fault, he found himself unable to ignore the pull. All he could do was assure himself that, by giving into the urge he would be doing so to protect himself and not the damn kike, that this was for his benefit, not Kyle.

"Aradion, make sure Kyle doesn't get in the way, this fight is between Cartman and I," Trent said, his voice breaking through Cartman's thoughts, causing the brunette to frown as he gave the small creature a quick glance. He heard Kyle make an odd sound behind him and fighting down the urge to look back, kept his gaze fixed on Trent, wishing he had some kind of weapon, something he could actually fight with, not just a ball of power, because he had a feeling just sending out some random blast this time wouldn't work.

Before he had time to make a move, he felt something shift then and looking down, he watched with wide eyes as the ball of light began to change, it's shape beginning to look almost like a sword; or at the very least, some type of blade comprised of light. Lifting it higher, he frowned and studying the item, swallowed, wondering how such a thing had occurred. Did that mean he could control the power as he wished? Would he be able to form other items, besides weapons?

More importantly, would he know how to use it? The most Cartman knew about the art of wielding a sword was what he'd seen in those action and martial arts movies, stunts he was sure were hardly as easy as they looked. Gripping the hilt, he frowned and thinking it would at least be easier if he were holding an actual sword, not something formed out of light, sighed, guessing the only thing he could do was swing like hell and hope, when this was over, he was still the one standing.

In front of him, he saw Trent smirk and not at all liking the expression, shifted, moving into what he hoped would be an effective fighting stance. For what felt like an eternity, the blonde made no movement until, finally, he lifted his hand, the orb of lightning flaring at the motion before it too began to change, shifting into the oh-so-familiar sword shape. Somehow, the fact that the other was able to manipulate his power as well didn't surprise Cartman and, watching as the blade sparked with electricity, he found himself instead hoping that Trent knew just as much about swords as he did.

Trent moved into a similar stance and Cartman found himself at a loss, unsure of what to do now. He could charge the other, but he had no idea just how well the blonde would be able to hold himself and, if he was honest, he didn't want to die this early in the fight. Inhaling sharply, Cartman swallowed and shifting, went to move when without warning, Trent charged only to vanish halfway through his run. He reappeared seconds later, inches away from Cartman, the brunette barely having time to raise his own sword before the blades collided in a brilliant explosion.

His mind was thrown immediately into overdrive as he snarled and shoving forward, tried to gain some type of leverage, not liking how easily he was being pushed back. Cartman knew he was physically strong, not only had he spent quite a bit of time trying to turn his fat into muscle, but his short stay on the football team had pretty much assured he now had the means to back up most of his threats. Unfortunately, Trent seemed to be just as strong and if the way his arms were shaking meant anything, Cartman had a feeling that just because he was a bit bigger than the boy, it didn't mean he could easily overpower him.

So focused was he on trying to hold his own ground, he barely had time to notice the little blur that darted past him before he heard Kyle's cry and gritting his teeth, Cartman tore away from Trent, swinging around in time to see the ground beneath the Jew open violently, enclosing around his legs. He had no idea what the hell was going on, he just knew that weird little imp had something to do with it and as he headed for the creature, he let out a strangled sound of shock when Trent once again appeared in front of him, the brunette barely dodging the swing aimed for his neck, his body stumbling back as he glared. "Why the fuck are you doing this?!" He shouted, fixing the blonde with a dark glare, beginning to hate that damn smirk.

"You mean besides the fact you two helped lock me away for pretty much my entire life?" Trent spat, his smirk twisting into what Carman recognized as a disgusted sneer, the expression causing his anger to rise just a few notches higher. "Besides that, seems Kyle over there has something Damien wants and he asked me to help him, so here I am." Before Cartman could respond, Trent lunged for him once more and though he easily met the swing with his own, he frowned, not taking the way his arms burned to be a good sign. If he was already starting to get tired, how much of a chance did he have?

"Cartman!"

Kyle's voice broke through his thoughts and feeling something snap within him, Cartman growled, his power exploding as he charged forward, not bothering to question this sudden flood of strength as he pushed against Trent. He saw a flicker of confusion in the others eyes and thinking that look suited the blonde much better, continued his assault, the pure _need_ to destroy his opponent now raging through his veins.

* * *

Kyle watched with wide eyes as rage appeared to wash over Cartman, the larger boy suddenly returning Trent's attack with a fervor that seemed to come out of nowhere. Was that his doing? He hadn't meant to call out for the other, but when he saw the sheer look of desperation on Cartman's face, Kyle knew he had to do something, anything, to help, and yet he was rooted to the spot, unable to move because of that damn demon locking him in place.

Still, as he watched the fight between Cartman and Trent rage on, Kyle found himself wondering just what the blonde had meant before; what on earth could he possibly have that Damien would want? He was willing to bet that whatever it was, it dealt directly with the power he now seemed to possess and yet from the way Trent spoke, he made it sound like there was some sort of object resting inside Kyle.

Which didn't make any sense, as Kyle was sure he would have at least been somewhat aware of the fact he was carrying some powerful item around in his body by now. Then again, for all he knew, he might have always possessed this power and he hadn't found out about it until the other day, so the idea of something residing inside of him probably wasn't that unlikely at the moment.

"You seem to have a good degree of power over your friend there, boyo." The words slammed through Kyle's thoughts and, turning his head, he blinked, studying the little imp that stood only a foot away, his forked tail whipping furiously behind him. "He looked done for, until he heard your voice. Do you have some spell over him?"

Needing a moment for the question to sink in, Kyle sputtered, and shaking his head quickly, glared. "No, I didn't put a spell on him! And I sure as hell don't have any power over Cartman, I don't know why he reacted like that, so would you let me go?!" He cried, once again struggling against the stone bonds that encircled his legs, though like before, it did little good.

"Ah, I'm afraid I can't do that, you see if I did you would no doubt rush to help your friend and it seems that, at least for now, Damien wants you alive and whole." Aradion smiled, the expression only serving to make Kyle angrier as he snarled, going to respond when a large blast caught both their attentions and whipping his head around, the red-head gasped, watching as both Cartman and Trent stumbled away from one another, though he found himself more focused on the blood that was trickling down Cartman's face and the gash visible on the boy's upper arm.

As he saw Cartman struggle to control his breathing, the boy's eyes still dark with anger, Kyle resumed his vain attempts to break free. He had to get loose, had to go and help Cartman, because if he didn't, the other boy wasn't going to last much longer. Maybe if he called his own power forth? That seemed to help last time, didn't it? If he could just relax and concentrate he could…

"Kyle?!"

Head snapping up, the Jewish boy swallowed and twisting his body around as much as he could, felt his eyes widen when he spotted Stan, his best friend standing only a few feet away, shock written over his features. No, he didn't want Stan here, didn't want to see his friend get dragged into this. He didn't care at the moment how the boy had gotten inside the force-field, didn't even care if he had been followed by his friend, he just wanted him out of the area and away from the danger.

"Stan, get out of here!"

* * *

He was going crazy, that's all there was to it. There was no other explanation for what he was seeing except he'd gone off the deep end completely. Because there was no way Cartman could be having a sword-fight with Trent (when the hell did he get out of Juvenile Hall?), nor was there anyway for Kyle to be rooted to the concrete and there was definitely no way some blue-skinned, top-hat wearing creature could be standing right beside his friend. Stan was fairly sure as he closed his eyes that, upon opening them, none of this would be there; it didn't matter if he could still hear the sounds of fighting, once he reopened his eyes, all of it would be gone.

Sadly, as he peeled his eyes open, he found that wasn't the case. Which, in turn, meant either one of two things: his hallucinations were incredibly strong or everything he was witnessing was, indeed, happening. Licking his lips, Stan shook his head and tearing his eyes away from the fight, quite sure he didn't want to draw Cartman's attention to him when the other boy had _that_ look on his face, he turned, heading for Kyle. Helping his best friend came first anyway.

Unfortunately, the imp seemed to have different ideas and Stan found his path blocked by the tiny creature, causing him to skid to a stop before he crashed into the thing. Eyes narrowing, he sighed and taking a step back, frowned. "Get out of the way," he ordered, before moving to sidestep the small obstacle only to feel something slam into the back of his leg. Yelping in pain, Stan fell forward, barely managing to break his fall as he twisted around, glaring darkly. "What the hell is wrong with you?!"

"Sorry about that, but I'm afraid I can't let you get involved. You see this is just between Trent, Kyle, and that boy over there," the creature stated as he turned and Stan felt something almost reminiscent of fear build inside of him as he saw the thing raise one of its hands, his eyes soon drawn to the razor-like claws that seemed to glint despite the lack of light. He had just enough time to twist out of the way before the imp lunged, feeling those claws graze the back of his jacket as he rolled to the side, scrambling to stand.

He heard Kyle call for him, telling him to run, but he had little time to reply before once again, he was forced to dodge the creatures attack and trying to regain some form of balance, he swallowed, heart pounding. Darting to the left, he tried to reach Kyle only to have his path blocked by the imp and stumbling back to avoid the devil's hand, hissed, feeling those dagger-like nails brush against his cheek.

Falling away, Stan let out a small cry as he slammed into the concrete and lifting a hand out of reflex, moved to cover the wound on his face, grimacing when he felt blood coat his fingers. Then, spotting movement in the corner of his eye, made a strangled sound, realizing the demon was heading for him and without thinking, began scrambling back. The action did little to slow the creature's advances and he watched, frozen, as fire began to consume the devil's hand.

It was unlike any fire he'd ever seen before. Light blue in color, it seemed to flicker wildly in the demon's hold, and it didn't appear to give the creature any discomfort, though Stan had a feeling he wouldn't be so lucky should he come into contact with those pale flames. Behind the demon, he saw Kyle struggling against his holds and swallowing, felt his mouth go dry, his mind finally slowing down enough to help him realize one very clear fact: he was about to die.

Tearing his eyes away from the blue-skinned devil, Stan found his gaze landing on the fight that was still raging between Cartman and Trent. Did Cartman know he was here? Despite the small part of him that hoped maybe, just maybe, his friend would try to help him, Stan was pretty sure the larger boy was too absorbed in his own fight to even notice his presence. Which meant he was on his own.

A slight shift caused him to fix his gaze back on his attacker and seeing the demon lunge, Stan threw up his hand, the reflex done in some vain attempt to the block what he knew would be a fatal hit, his eyes closing. There was no way he could deflect the fire, and it wasn't as if he even stood much of a chance without a weapon of some kind. He wished there was some way he could move, some way he could defend himself, because he wasn't ready to die, not here, not in front of Kyle. He had to save Kyle, had to help him get out of here and he couldn't do that if he was dead. Couldn't do that if he didn't think of…

"Stan!"

The voice tore through his thoughts and before he knew what was happening, everything seemed to explode around him. Stan didn't have any real time to react before he felt heat ripple through his hand, the sensation followed by a shrill cry, the sound quickly turning into a painful keening. The noise become so loud that his eyes snapped open and he let out a mangled sort of gasp, gaze locked on the flames that were erupting from his palm and knowing now where the heated tingle that was traveling up his arm came from, he yanked his hand back, the fire immediately dieing out.

What the hell was going on?

Breathing heavily, the dark-haired boy swallowed, trying to control his breathing before realizing the howling was growing louder. Allowing his eyes to scan the area, he tried to locate the source, his stomach twisting as his eyes fell upon the badly burned demon. The creature was writhing in pain, that awful noise spilling from his lips and he could see the dark patches that marred the little imp's pale blue skin. Feeling the bile rising to the back of his throat, Stan turned away, unable to stand the sight. Needing something else, to focus on he turned and found his eyes locking with Trent's shocked gaze.

The shock soon gave way to anger and Stan swore violently as Trent charged for him. He was halfway up when he saw something move behind the blonde and, gasping, watched as Cartman lunged forward, his blade plunging through the back of the others abdomen. Taking a stumbling step backward, Stan heard Kyle scream for Cartman to stop, the words coming seconds too late and seeing the blood that was now seeping from the wound, swallowed hard, trying to keep his stomach down. He'd never liked seeing blood, and to see it actually coming from someone else…

"You son of a bitch!"

The curse quickly broke through the odd haze that was threatening to cloud Stan's mind and he forced himself to look back, just in time to see Trent stumble away from Cartman, who looked as if he'd just woken up, his eyes no longer dark with fury, filled instead with confusion. It was as if he'd been under some type of spell, a prospect Stan wasn't quite ready to rule out; after all, he'd just shot fire from his hand, so at the moment, anything seemed possible.

Before either he or the brunette could actually react to Trent's outburst, the blonde vanished, reappearing beside the oddly still form of the demon. The wounded boy wasted no time as his hand shot out, shaking slightly, and as he grabbed the creature's arm, he turned, eyes swinging to rest on Cartman. "You'll pay for this," he snarled and then he was gone, taking with him the little imp.

Almost instantly, light flooded the area and squeezing his eyes shut, Stan groaned, not having realized just how dark it had been as he shook his head. After a long moment, he slowly forced his eyes open and waiting until they were at least somewhat adjusted to the new light, saw Kyle standing, a gasp breaking from his lips as he darted over, a hand reaching out to steady his friend. "Kyle, are you okay? What the hell just happened? Are you hurt?" The questions tumbled out before he could stop him and only a sharp look from the Jewish boy made him pause, allowing Kyle to regain his bearings.

"I'm fine Stan, really," Kyle assured and though Stan very much doubted that, he decided to let it rest for now, thinking they had bigger issues to deal with. Slowly, he took a step back and watching the red-head dust himself off, frowned, his gaze sliding to the figure who stood just a few feet away, watching Kyle intently. The sword was gone, and though he had no idea where the other might have put such a weapon, the dark-haired youth decided right now that wasn't what mattered.

"I want to know what's going on, Kyle." He saw the boy tense and reaching out, let his hand wrap around Kyle's wrist, wanting the boy to know he wasn't leaving without some answers. After a brief pause, he felt Kyle relax and loosening his hold just a little, nodded, gesturing for him to speak. However, before the red-head was able to get even one word out, he was interrupted by a loud scoff, causing both boys to fix their sights on Cartman, who stood glaring at them.

"If all you pussies are going to do is stand there and hold one another, then I'm out of here," he said and turning, he headed toward them and pausing only to retrieve his bag, brushed past the pair, ignoring Stan's glare. "Don't follow me again Jew, I'm tired of getting dragged into your problems." When he received no response, he shrugged and continued, only making it a little further before he came to a sudden stop, seeming to bounce back slightly, a quiet string of curses flowing from him.

Just as Stan went to ask Cartman what his problem was _now_, a sharp whistle tore through the air and had all three boys turning, their eyes landing on the tall, lanky form of a young man none of them had ever seen before. He certainly didn't look like anyone who lived in South Park, that much Stan knew and as he studied the man, with his short, messy brown hair and dark blue eyes, he frowned, thinking the stranger had quite an odd feel to him. Then again, at the moment, everything seemed odd. "Who are you?" He asked, ending the awkward silence.

"Oh, terribly sorry, my name is Jasper Lloyd and I also apologize to you, young man," Jasper added, his eyes flicking toward Cartman as he smiled, "but I cannot have you leaving just yet. You boys were all quite impressive, the sheer amount of power you're able to control already is astounding! Not to mention, the control you have over their actions, Kyle, is very good."

Feeling as if the ground had been pulled out from under him and replaced just as quickly, Stan made a strangled sound, staring at the man with wide eyes. "Whoa, wait, what the hell are you talking about? And, how do you know Kyle's name?" Thinking things were just getting weirder by the minute, he briefly wondered if he even wanted to know anymore, beginning to think it might just be better to pretend this never happened.

"Yes, of course you're all quite lost aren't you? Well I suppose that's understandable, what with Damien getting to you before I could," sighing then, Jasper shook his head before smiling once more, heading for the trio. "Explanations are in order, that much is certain, however I do believe such things would be best left for tomorrow, after you've all had some rest hmm? Eric, if you don't mind, since you're an only child, I'll be staying with you."

"No, no fucking way am I letting some random guy I don't even know stay at my house, I learned my lesson before," Cartman protested, arms crossing then before adding, "and don't call me Eric, I don't even know you asshole."

"Oh my, you've a rather colorful mouth don't you? No matter, it's already been arranged and it's simply the only way. Kyle and Stanley both have more people living in their respective homes, so it's safer for me to stay with you," he explained, and not giving the brunette time to argue, nodded. "Now then, I realize today has been a whirlwind of activity for you, so Stanley, if you don't mind escorting Kyle home?"

Not entirely sure what was going on, Stan found himself nodding and guessing this would give him a chance to talk to Kyle without the fatass interrupting, turned, pulling Kyle along with him. He had no idea who this Jasper guy was, or even if he could be trusted, but at this point, the thought of going home and crawling into bed was far too tempting and the man had promised to give them answers, which was a lot more than he'd gotten so far.

"Wonderful! I shall have Eric inform you tomorrow of where we will meet up so we can discuss the current situation. Both of you get some rest, especially you, Kyle," he added, before turning toward Cartman, seemingly unaffected by the dark look said boy was sending his way. "Now then, Eric, shall we head to your home?"

"I already said you're not staying at my house, and stop fucking calling me Eric!" The sound of cheerful laughter was his only response.


	6. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer:** South Park and all of its respective characters are the property of Matt Stone and Trey Parker. I own only this story's plot and any original characters that may pop up from time to time. Also, I am making no profit from this story.

**Warnings:** This story will contain slash (boys love, yaoi, etc.) as well as violence, swearing, and, well, most of the things you would probably hear in a regular episode of South Park. The boys are intended to be between the ages of 16-18 here.

* * *

**Chapter 05**

Cartman wasn't entirely sure if he should be confused, pissed, or just vaguely shocked as he watched his mother, who had apparently come home sometime the night before, pile a large stack of pancakes onto a plate sitting in front of Jasper, who was giving the woman a pleasant smile. If she found it odd that some strange man was sitting at their breakfast table, then she was doing a great job at hiding it as she bustled around the kitchen, trying to make sure Jasper had everything he needed.

Before the brunette teen could even attempt to pick through the many emotions that raced through his head, Liane seemed to notice his presence, giving him a bright smile as she waved him into the kitchen and, without missing a beat, began preparing him a plate.

"Oh Eric dear, you're up! Well don't just stand there, come in and say good morning to your cousin!" Liane chirped, not sure why her son was just standing there, mouth agape and eyes wide. When the boy finally moved into the kitchen, she smiled once more, setting his plate on the table in his usual spot. "He's come all the way from Seattle to visit--"

"You, come with me, now." Cartman hissed, grabbing Jasper's arm as he hauled the man up and not bothering to pay his mother any attention, turned, storming out of the room. Ignoring Jasper's slight protests, he moved for the front door and, throwing it open, shoved the man out, following after as he slammed the door behind him. "Now, explain what the fuck is going on, and you can start with telling me why the hell you're still in my house!"

The brunette watched as the older man took a moment to regain his balance, feeling slightly miffed that he didn't even have the decency to look at least a little ruffled before the same, annoyingly bright smile returned. For some reason, Cartman found that smile rubbed him exactly the wrong way, and having the sudden urge to hurt something, felt his hands clench. He briefly toyed with the thought of simply hitting the man and storming back inside to be done with it, but there was still the matter of his mother believing this idiot to be his cousin.

That and, apparently, he had answers to the entire situation with the Jew.

"Eric, you really must learn to control that temper of yours," Jasper began, giving Cartman time to register only the fact that he had, indeed, used his first name before he continued. "I was in your house because your mother, being the kind woman she is, invited me inside. You see, after you so rudely refused to let me in last night, I'd decided to simply wait until you were asleep before making my way in."

Biting back his initial response to the reason why his mother might have invited Jasper in, Cartman paused and letting the rest of the explanation set in, frowned. "Wait, so after I told you I wasn't going to let you stay in the house, you decided to just fucking break in once I'd gone to sleep? So now you're annoying burglar, great, just fucking wonderful."

"My, you have quite the mouth don't you? But no, Eric, I am not a burglar," the older man corrected, looking just a little offended that such a thing would even be a suggested before he chuckled, shaking his head. "Your mother, as luck would have it, arrived home shortly after I saw the light in your room go out. So, after I explained the situation to her, she let me right in, gave me the spare guest room, and here we are. So you see? I am no burglar."

"Then explain to me why the hell she thinks you're my cousin!" Cartman demanded, still not satisfied with the answers he'd been given so far. None of it made any sense, as far as he could tell and no matter how he tried, he just couldn't connect the dots. His mother comes home, finds some strange man on her doorstep, invites him in, and suddenly thinks he's her nephew? He watched then as Jasper twitched and, thinking the man seemed to be just a tad uncomfortable now, frowned, taking a step closer.

"Well, while she was asking my name I sort of, ah, altered her memories just a tad. Nothing major mind you, everything's still as it should be, however I simply added a sister who just happened to have a son, who has been living in Seattle for the past four years. Which would be me, I suppose. I promise you, once this is all over and I am able to leave, it will only take a moment to erase any trace of my stay from her mind. It's a very safe spell and I'm quite good at it, if I do say so myself." Jasper was fidgeting with his hands now, and the younger boy wasn't sure if he wanted to hit or strangle him, as both options were beginning to look good at the moment.

On one hand, Cartman couldn't really bring himself to be upset over the fact his mother's mind had been, literally, tampered with; she'd never had much going on up there, as far as he could tell, and he was pretty sure nothing Jasper did could really screw it up any worse. No, what pissed him off was that the man had literally gone over him and to his own _mother_ to be let in the house. It was a low trick and while he knew it was probably one he would play, having it turned around on him was not something he enjoyed.

"Why the hell do you have to stay here anyway? Can't you go stay with the Jew or Stan or, I don't know, a hotel or something?" He vaguely recalled having been told an answer to that question the night before, during the long walk home, but as it was, Cartman could not remember what the answer had been. Then again, he supposed that could be chalked up to the fact he'd started tuning the man out. Not that he could be blamed, the idiot was just too long-winded.

"As I explained last night, Eric, both Kyle and Stanley have larger families. You live only with your mother, and most of the time, she is away, so it works out perfectly." Something about that response struck a nerve in Cartman and he chose not to reply, thinking it best to start the day off with a minimal amount of yelling. Instead, he let out a long groan and spinning around, slammed his head against the door, gritting his teeth. "Oh come now, it won't be that bad, I promise."

Taking a moment to reign in his frustration, Cartman turned and studying Jasper, rolled his eyes, pushing away from the door. "Fine, since I know you'll just find your way back in anyway, I guess you can stay. But before anything else, you're going to tell me exactly what's going on with this whole situation got it?" Not giving the man time to reply, the brunette opened the front door and moving back inside, gestured for Jasper to follow.

* * *

Groaning at the odd feeling that something wasn't right, Stan rolled over and forcing his eyes open, blinked, greeted by the sight of Shelley's face mere inches from his own. Eyes widening, he let out a shout before quickly shooting up, glaring darkly at the girl. "What the hell, Shelley?! How long have you been standing there?" He questioned, his irritation only rising at how amused the older girl looked.

"Relax, no need to scream over it, I've only been here for like five minutes," she said, and making a mental note to try and freak him out like that more often, chuckled, shaking her head, mood changing swiftly. "Anyway, Mom wants you up, so get your lazy ass out of bed, it's almost noon," she snapped, and not bothering to wait for his reply, headed out of the room, slamming the door behind her.

Wincing at the loud sound, Stan sighed and falling back against his pillows, frowned, giving his alarm clock a quick glance. Why the hell hadn't the thing gone off? Idly wondering then if he'd even remembered to set it the night before, the dark-haired boy groaned, hands moving to cover his face. He felt awful, his entire body ached and though it wasn't nearly as bad as it could have been, thanks to hours of football practice, he still had no real desire to leave his bed.

Guessing there was no way around it, Stan slowly pushed himself up and throwing his covers off, swung his legs over the bed, his body immediately hunching forward. Taking just another moment to prepare himself for the task of actually standing, he inhaled deeply and letting the air out in an explosive sigh, stood, grimacing at the sound of popping bones. Hoping Shelley hadn't lied to him, he frowned and deciding it was too late now, moved to grab some clothes.

As he pulled a shirt from the back of his computer chair, Stan paused, something immediately clicking in his mind. If he felt this bad, then it could only mean everything that had happened yesterday had, in fact, been real. While a part of him had already accepted that fact, there had been just a small bit of him that had hoped he would wake to find it had been nothing but a bad dream. And yet, even now, he could still remember it all clearly; Cartman wielding some strange sword, Trent attempting to kill him, and…fire.

Eyes widening, he felt the shirt slip from his hand and lifting the limb higher, frowned, studying his palm. Had he really created fire on his own? It sounded ridiculous, even when asking himself, and yet, the memory of doing so was still fresh in his mind. If it really was true, then maybe he could do it again? Of course, Stan had no idea how one would go about calling fire out of nowhere, and immediately found his mind jumping to all the movies he'd seen. Perhaps an incantation? Then again, he hadn't needed any sort of spell the other day.

"Not like I'd had time to say any sort of spell," he muttered and shaking his head, let his hand fall, unable to believe how foolish he was being. "I should call Kyle, not worry about making fire or whatever," he continued, thinking that right now, Kyle was his best bet to figuring out what was going on. He supposed that Jasper guy might also know a thing or two, but right now, Stan decided he would rather talk to his best friend. If he _could_ talk to him; they had barely said two words to one another on the way home, and every time he'd started to say something, Stan found himself unable to keep going, the words sounding awkward and useless.

Whining loudly, the dark-haired boy bent down and quickly grabbing his shirt, shoved it over his head. First things first, he needed to get downstairs and figure out just what his mom wanted. He could deal with everything else after that, and possibly after he'd had something to eat. He'd barely been able to stomach any dinner the night before he'd made some excuse to get away from the table and go to bed. Stan couldn't remember what excuse he'd used now, but he desperately hoped _that_ wasn't what his mom wanted to talk about.

He really didn't want to imagine trying to explain to her, or either of his parents, how he'd somehow created fire on his own.

Pulling his pants on quickly, the boy took only an extra minute to try and smooth his hair down before he headed out of the room, descending the stairs two at a time in an effort to reach the bottom as quickly as possible. Already, he could hear the television blasting, the sound of some reality show reaching his ears and guessing it was one of those pathetic shows Shelley seemed to love, sighed, his pace slowing, reaching the last few steps.

"Well, took you long enough." Shelley's voice cut through the noise of the television and frowning at her tone, he rolled his eyes, biting back any response he might have wanted to say. Though he was big enough to no longer fear his sister's physical attacks, the girl still had a knack for making his life miserable and, with everything else that seemed to be going on in his life right now, the last thing he needed was to deal with a pissed-off sister.

Moving into the living room, he failed to spot his mom and guessing she was in the kitchen, made his way toward the room, careful to walk behind the couch, avoiding any unnecessary contact with the older girl. He heard her mutter something as he passed by and, pretty sure that whatever it was, it wasn't something he'd want to hear, ignored her.

Sure enough, he found both of his parents in the kitchen. His dad sat at the table, eyes fixed on the newspaper, while his mom bustled around near the sink, cutting carrots and then dumping them into a bowl filled with water. It looked picturesque and oh so wrong. It was Saturday, shouldn't his dad be watching television or out doing something that, nine times out of ten, usually involved alcohol? His parents never just stayed in the kitchen together and the scene caused something odd to twist in Stan's stomach.

Something definitely wasn't right here.

"Uh, mom, you wanted to talk to me?" His voice echoed in the small room and seemed out of place, like he didn't belong there. For what felt like an eternity, his question was greeted by silence and it was only when he took another step into the kitchen, mouth opening to speak once again, that he saw his mom's movements cease, his dad looking away from the newspaper. It was then that Stan could see just how uncomfortable his dad looked and guessing that whatever this was about, it was something Randy Marsh found either unimportant or that he thought was none of his concern. His mom, however, looked rather serious when she turned to face him. Yet again, he felt like something was terribly wrong with this situation and he frowned, looking between his parents. "Um, is something wrong?"

"Kyle's mother called this morning."

Taken aback by the rather random statement, Stan blinked and not entirely sure of what to make out of what he'd just been told, felt his head cock to the side. A split second later, worried thoughts began to spring up in his mind, buzzing around as he fought the urge to voice them aloud. Had Kyle told his mom what happened? Had something happened after Stan left? Was Kyle hurt? Putting a hand to his forehead, Stan closed his eyes and screamed at the thoughts to shut up, aware that the whole time, his parents seemed to be waiting for his reply.

"Oh?" It wasn't what his mom wanted to hear, if the deepening of her frown was anything to go by. Unfortunately, it was all Stan could come up with. Not at all liking the look he was getting from her now, he scrambled around mentally, trying to push the anxious questions aside and find something, anything really, that he could say to make her stop giving him that damned look. "Uh, what did she want?"

"She said Kyle's been acting odd these past few days, he's been coming home tired and hasn't eaten much," his mother continued, and though her tone was neutral, he could hear the accusation in it. So, that was it. No doubt his mother, and Kyle's, thought they were up to something, most likely drugs or whatever. Well, while Stan couldn't deny that he hadn't smoked a joint or two with Kenny on occasion, he knew without a doubt that Kyle was clean; the boy could barely handle second-hand smoke, and he'd seemed to find the idea of anything else disgusting.

Honestly, it was a miracle he'd managed to get Kyle to drink sometimes.

Now that he knew what this was really about, he felt the knot in his stomach unclench and forcing away the tug that pulled at his lips, merely nodded, gesturing for his mother to continue. He knew she would ask if he had any idea about Kyle's behavior and he figured now would be the best time to try and come up with some half-truth, because he couldn't tell her what was really going on.

"Sheila was wondering if you might know what was going on? You and Kyle are so close, you'd know if something was wrong, wouldn't you Stanley?" His full name? Ouch. It occurred to him then that his mother really did think he and Kyle were hiding some deep, dark secret from them. For just a moment, he toyed with the idea of lying and saying that yes, he and Kyle were doing something horrible behind their backs before he thought better of it. As amusing as the reactions might be, it wasn't worth the consequences.

Plus, he really needed to think of an excuse.

"Uh, see, Kyle didn't want anyone else to know but well," trailing off, the boy searched for something else to add. What would Kyle be doing that he wouldn't want his mother to know about? Besides the very obvious things, he needed to find something that still fit with his best friend's nature. Kyle didn't go out and party, it wasn't really his thing, so maybe something school-related? That could work, but what?

"Well what?"

Damn it! Couldn't the woman lay off for a second? Giving his mother a quick glance, he shook his head, and grabbing at the first thing that managed to pop up, blurted, "He's getting picked on at school and it's bothering him." Seeing his mom blink, Stan cursed himself and wishing he could have gone with something related to classes, decided it was too late now and that it was better than nothing. "Some uh, boys at school are giving him a hard time and he's trying to deal with it, so he didn't want to get his mom involved because, well, you guys know how she is."

Luckily, both his parents seemed to agree because almost instantly, his mom's expression softened and just barely, he could hear his dad mutter in agreement. "So, that's all really, and uh I'm trying to help so if you could not mention it to his mom?" The last thing he needed was for Sheila Broflovski to think her precious Kyle was getting bullied at school when he wasn't; the woman might go insane.

"Well, all right, but if anything physical happens his mom has the right to know, okay?" Thankful for how easy it was to make his mom drop things sometimes, Stan smiled and nodding, moved further into the kitchen, grabbing a bag of unopened chips from the table. "I'm serious Stan, if it escalates any further you really ought to get him to let his parents know."

"I will mom, relax," he coaxed, and turning, headed out of the kitchen, not wanting to stick around for any other sort of lecture she might try to jump into. As he left, he heard his dad say something about a 'job well done' only to have his mom sigh and go back to her work. Opening the bag of chips, Stan sighed and at least glad that ended better than he thought it would, quickly made his way past Shelley, pointedly ignoring the dark look she cast him before heading back upstairs. He wanted to look into some things, and though he still wasn't sure if it would be a good idea, he wanted to try making fire.

He also wanted to call Kyle, he just had to decide which he would do first.  


* * *

Staring at the man who was currently sitting at his desk, Cartman frowned and shifting uncomfortably, sighed deeply. "Okay, listen, we've been sitting here for the last fifteen minutes and you've barely answered any of my questions," he started, trying desperately to keep calm. The last thing he needed was for his mother to come bother them about why her son was screaming profanities at his supposed cousin. Plus, his head was beginning to throb and he wanted this over with; he hadn't even had breakfast yet! Which was, yet another thing he blamed on Jasper.

"Ah, yes, I was merely trying to think of a way I could answer your questions. I'll tell you this first, a lot of the information I need to share will not be said until both Kyle and Stanley are present." Of course he knew that already, the annoying idiot had told him that after they'd reentered the house. "Still, I suppose I can try and answer some of your inquiries, at least the ones that deal with you alone."

"Good, you can start by telling me what the fuck that Jew did to me!" He cried, and watching as Jasper blinked, sighed heavily, a hand running through his hair. "I know that whatever the hell this power is, it came from him and somehow, I got saddled with it."

"I can assure you, Kyle did not give you that power; he merely awakened it. Everyone is born with power, Eric, it's just that most of the time, nothing in their life happens to trigger said magic and it remains dormant within them. The power that you can now control has always been with you, it's just that by coming into contact with Kyle's, it was jump started." Jasper was smiling once more, and for just a moment, Cartman wanted to reach over and knock that grin off his face. Why did the man have to look so goddamned happy?

"Then why do I feel him in it? And, why is it when I tried to use it the first night, after I got home, it seemed so weak and yet the next day, when I showed it to Kyle, it was strong." It made no sense; if the power was his to control now, regardless of the lack of skill he may have, Cartman was pretty sure it shouldn't fluctuate like it did.

"Oh, well that's simple. Because your power was awakened by Kyle, it's connected to him. As such, it explains why you can feel him in your magic and, the reason for it's change in strength," Jasper said, and the younger boy watched as he pointed toward his hand, motioning him to lift it. Instantly getting just what was being asked of him, Cartman rolled his eyes and held his hand up, calling his power forth with surprising ease.

Just like the last time he'd tried doing so in his room, the orb flickered weakly and though he frowned at the sight, he saw Jasper's smile widen. "What's that look for?" He asked, hating how the man seemed to understand something he wasn't at all getting. "Are you saying it should do this or something?"

"Yes, that's perfectly natural. Right now, your power is still new and because it is so closely connected to Kyle, it makes sense that with the distance between the two of you, the amount you are able to draw forth is weak compared to the volume you possess." The man stopped then and appeared to be searching for something else to say, leaving Cartman to look back at the sphere of light resting in his hand.

Even now, though it was faint, he could feel a trace of Kyle within the essence. He wasn't sure how he knew it belonged to the Jew, but every time he brushed it, every time he brought it to the front of his mind, he just _knew_. He'd been around the Jew long enough, he thought, to recognize something that belonged to him, no matter what it was. This, however, did little to ease his irritation.

"Your power is there to protect Kyle, and to protect that which Kyle houses within him. What that is," Jasper added quickly and Cartman shut his mouth, giving the fool a dark glare, "will be explained later, once we have the other boys with us. Now, any other questions?"

"Why have I felt so angry? I mean it's not like I'm new to the emotion, but, these last few days, I've just felt so pissed-off." That was almost putting it lightly, but Cartman had no real way to accurately describe the sheer amount of rage that had been boiling inside of him for the past three days. It had long since moved past the burning hot anger, to cold rage and it was beginning to scare him, just a little. He wasn't used to this much anger, all at once, over something he couldn't pin-point.

"I can't say for sure," Jasper began and almost immediately, Cartman had a feeling he wasn't going to like whatever answer the man came up with it. "However, I believe that this sudden bout of anger may deal with how new your power is and how it's reacting not only to your body, but it's trying to find a niche within you, so that eventually, it will be connected with you fully. Also, the distance between you and Kyle may have something to do with it, given how fresh your bond with him is."

Bond? He had a bond with the Jew? "Oh that's just fucking great, now you're saying I'm bonded or whatever to that damn daywalker?" When he received a nod in reply, he let out a string of curses that, he was pleased to see, made even Jasper wince just a little. "How the hell can I get rid of it?"

"You can't, not really. So long as Kyle needs protection, the power that rests inside of you will feel the pull to perform that duty."

Well, that was really not the answer he'd been looking for. "So, let me get this straight so far. I'm stuck with this power and so long as trouble keep's coming after Kyle, I have to keep fighting to make sure he doesn't get himself killed?" Watching as Jasper nodded, Cartman looked down and desperately trying to ignore the urge to hurt something, let out an explosive sigh. "So basically, there's not a damn thing I can do about this?"

He saw the others smile fade, an odd look taking it's place and feeling uncomfortable under such a gaze, Cartman let his eyes fall back to the floor. "I'm afraid not, however, if you'll call the other two together, I can better explain the whole situation. After all, having all the knowledge you can should help a little."

Guessing he really had no other choice, Cartman nodded and standing, moved over to his dresser, grabbing his cell. Flipping it open, he failed to see the way Jasper seemed to eye the device and punching in Kyle's speed-dial, moved it to his ear, waiting for the Jew to answer.

After the third ring, Cartman knew today was going to be a long day.  


* * *

Somewhere, something was making the most annoying sound Kyle had ever heard. Rolling over, the red-head groaned and forcing his eyes open, realized the noise belonged to his cell phone. More to the point, it belonged to Cartman, as that irritating melody had been picked out specifically for his hated friend. Without thinking, he reached over and grabbing the device off his night table, flipped it open, bringing the phone to his ear.

"Jew, get your ass out of bed and grab your little boyfriend, Jasper wants to meet up so he can explain what the fuck is going on." The voice on the other end sounded angry, not an uncommon tone for the larger boy to have and it took Kyle a moment longer than usual to have the words sink in, his tired mind rebelling against the thought of actually _understanding_ something. Still, he managed to get the gist of it.

"Fine, where are we meeting?" He could have yelled that Stan wasn't his boyfriend, or he could have raged against being woken up in such a manner, but then again, those were all things that required a person to be fully awake. Still there was one thing…"How the hell did you know I was still in bed, fatass? You aren't spying on me are you?"

"As if, everyone knows daywalkers sleep until noon." The answer was swift and for a second, Kyle had to admire Cartman's ability to pull such replies out of nowhere. "And we're meeting at that burger place close to your house, the one with the lame clown outside."

"All right, whatever, I'll get Stan and meet you guys there in twenty minutes." He waited for a reply, but when all he heard was a grunt and the sound of something clicking closed, he sighed, closing his own phone. Naturally, he should have known he would be unable to take a day to just rest and relax. Given everything that had happened so far, he supposed he should be grateful for getting to sleep in this late.

Pushing himself out of bed, Kyle paused and allowing his body to adjust to the sudden change, whimpered, hating how sore he was. Every inch of his body hurt, and toying briefly with the idea of simply crawling back into bed, he quickly decided it wouldn't be worth dealing with Cartman's fury later; and here recently, that fury had been reaching new heights, the likes of which not even Kyle had seen before.

Beginning to dress, the Jewish youth frowned, still unable to fully pin-point just why Cartman had been so angry. Sure, things were insane right now, and he knew the other was partially covering his lack of understanding with anger, but to have that much rage was pushing it just a bit. He didn't think all of it was directed toward him –a good chunk to be sure– but most of it seemed to come from nowhere.

Pulling his shirt on over his head, Kyle closed his eyes and pausing for a moment, hating how the simple act left him feeling tired, he shook his head, grabbing his cell phone off the bed and stuffing it in his pocket, moved for the door, hoping he could get out of the house without going through a third-degree with his mother. He'd barely walked in last night before he was assaulted, his mother asking if he was all right and if he wanted anything to eat and if he was sure he felt fine. He loved the woman, he really did, but sometimes he just wished she would learn to back off.

Not that he could blame her, he supposed, he knew he must have seemed off these last few days. He'd certainly felt like it, at any rate.

Quietly slipping out of his room, he spotted his father in his study, going over a large stack of paperwork and relieved to find the man seemed to be unaware of his presence, moved for the staircase, able to hear his mother's voice as she led Ike through one of his extra lessons, his brother's voice following seconds later, sounding bored and just a little irritated, causing Kyle to chuckle. He'd never been given those weekend lessons, something he was grateful for; then again, he hadn't let his grades slip, like Ike was doing, just because he was bored of school.

He was halfway down the stairs when his mother noticed him and before she had time to speak, he forced a bright smile, giving the pair a wave. "Morning guys, sorry I slept so late, but man do I feel better!" He said, hoping his voice wouldn't betray him as he reached the bottom, heading for the front door. "Sorry to run out, but I promised to meet Stan so I'll see you later!"

"Wait!"

Damn, he'd been so close. Hand falling from the doorknob, Kyle turned and feeling the smile falter just a bit, blinked, wondering what sort of questions his mother would up with this time. "Yeah?" He knew she would probably want to know how he was feeling, where he was going and all the things she usually asked, but as he studied her face, he was a bit surprised at the expression she now wore. It was worry, a look he knew all too well from the woman, but there seemed to be something else there. Something almost like sadness, just underneath the surface.

"Bubbelah, you would tell me if something was bothering you, right?" The question seemed wrong, like there was more to it, but he had no idea what. Not sure he liked that, Kyle frowned and studying his mother, made a slight sound, hating the way she was staring at him. Glancing toward the clock, he sighed and plastering the smile back onto his face, leaned forward, giving the shorter woman a hug.

"Of course mom, I would, promise." He hated using this tactic, because it felt wrong to use affection as a way of getting away, but he knew it would work and he knew, at the very least, he wasn't lying. Kyle was also sure it would help his mother, if just a little, to feel better and true enough, he felt her relax before she returned the embrace, patting his back.

His mother was the first to pull back and he felt her nudge him toward the door, a smile now on her face. "All right, but don't stay out too late Kyle." Though her tone was cheery, he could hear that hint of disbelief behind her words and as he turned to leave the house, Kyle couldn't stop the feeling of guilt that tugged at the corner of his mind.

Quickly exiting the house, he shut the door behind him and deciding that the best way to get his mind off his mother would be to call Stan, pulled his phone out, hitting the appropriate speed-dial, his legs carrying him toward sidewalk. By the fourth ring, he was about to give up when he heard the familiar sound of a phone being opened.

"Hey, dude, listen I know it's sudden but you know that burger place close to my house? Cartman says we have to meet up there, that Jasper man wants to talk to us." The words came out rushed and he really hoped his voice wasn't as loud as it sounded to his own ears. He felt nervous and Kyle supposed most of that could be blamed on the walk home last night; never before could he remember being unable to talk to Stan.

His best friend's reply was long in coming and he was about to ask if the boy was there at all before he finally got an answer. "Uh, wow, I was just about to call you. But um, sure dude, I'll be there in a bit." It seemed hesitant and Kyle frowned, the sudden urge to apologize welling up inside of him. He knew Stan was probably still reeling from the events of the previous day –he knew the feeling all too well– and he also knew it best not to push.

So, he simply said, "Great, see you there," before he hung up. Quickly closing the phone, he stuffed it back into his pocket, glaring at his shoes. He hadn't been awake an hour yet and already, Kyle felt absolutely horrible. It had to be a new record, that much was certain.

At the very least, he hoped Jasper could shed some light on just what was going on.  


* * *

"Eric, are you quite sure this is the best place to have such a discussion?"

Kyle watched in slight amusement as Cartman simply ignored the man, the larger boy too busy devouring the fries he'd poured onto his tray. He'd heard the other grumble something about being denied breakfast while they were waiting for their orders, but he hadn't really believed it; after all, though he was no longer the fat boy they all knew, it was still common knowledge Eric Cartman liked eating and rarely, if ever, missed a meal.

"Its your own damn fault, you just had to show up and fuck around with my mom's mind and not tell me a damn thing about it." Cartman snarled, and unsure if he was actually hearing it correctly, Kyle blinked, replaying the words over in his mind. Jasper did something to Cartman's mom? Deciding very quickly that whatever it was, he didn't want to know, Kyle sighed and shaking his head, lifted a hand, gaining Jasper's attention.

"I know this may not be the best place to talk about this, but since we're all here, maybe you can tell us a few things?" At the moment, their location wasn't of any concern to Kyle. He wanted answers and, if he had to hear them in a run-down fast food joint, then so be it.

For a moment, Jasper looked hesitant before he sighed, a look of defeat written clearly on his features, causing Kyle to smile; it seemed the man wasn't hard to convince, at least. In the corner of his eye, the red-head saw Stan tense and feeling the smile fade just a little, quickly re-focused his attention on Jasper, relieved to find the man (finally) ready to speak.

"I suppose you're right, well since it seemed to work well for Eric earlier, how about I give you boys the chance to ask questions? I'll do my best to answer them, and explain the current situation along the way." Kyle wasn't entirely sure he liked that option; he had so many questions, so many things he wanted to know and he had a feeling that if he tried to ask them all, none of them would be leaving anytime soon.

"What the hell does the Jew have that Damien wants so bad?" Kyle felt himself tense this time, and not having expected Cartman to ask _that_ question, frowned, eyes traveling between the two brunette's. Of course he wanted to know the answer as well, after all, whatever it was, the thing was _inside_ him and that wasn't a pleasant thought.

"A crystal. More to the point, it is the Rosarius Crystal, a very powerful item that, up until now, was held only by members of the Aurelien family. Sadly, the last owner, Queen Katharina was killed before she was able to properly pass the crystal on. In a desperate attempt to keep the Rosarius out of enemy hands, she sent it out to be reborn within a worthy soul. Which, as it turns out, just happens to be you, Kyle."

Jasper seemed to pause there, an odd expression settling upon his features and Kyle took this opportunity to try letting the information sink in. Somehow, no matter how he tried going over the words in his mind, they just didn't make any sense. There was a crystal inside of him? How the hell could he have gone so long without knowing? Surely, if it was so powerful, he would have noticed it before now. "It just doesn't make any sense," he muttered, not seeming to care if the others heard him or even noticing the way both Stan and Cartman were looking at him.

"In a way, you're correct in that statement, Kyle. For ages, it was believed that only those belonging to the Aurelien bloodline could properly possess the crystal, however," the man paused once again and for a moment, Kyle dared to look up, regretting it almost the moment he noticed Cartman's gaze, "there isn't a single drop of Aurelien blood within you. Yet, the mere fact that you hold the gem puts you next in line for the Aurelien throne; if it still existed, mind you. The kingdom has long been decimated."

"Wait, so this means Kyle's like, a prince?" For the first time since they had arrived, Stan seemed to be actively paying attention and hearing his friend's voice, Kyle glanced toward him, frowning at the question. A prince? No, he couldn't be a prince, crystal or no. It just wouldn't make any sense!

"Yes, technically speaking, by law he would have the right to the throne."

Well, so much for logic. Feeling the first twinge of what would, no doubt, promise to be a massive headache, Kyle sighed. "All right, well prince-talk aside, now that I know _what's_ inside of me, mind telling me just why Damien wants it? The last time I heard from the boy, he was going on about how Satan wanted to fight Jesus, why would he pop up now?"

"Not to mention," Stan added, pushing his own untouched tray of food aside, leaning forward, "why the hell was Trent Boyett with him? The last I heard, he was in Juvenile Hall with no chance of getting out anytime soon."

"Damien's desire to acquire the crystal stems from his wish to overthrow his father and seize Hell's throne. He has more power than his father in his current state, however by no means is Damien over-confident and though I am unsure of just where he heard about the Rosarius gem, or how he was able to surmise that Kyle here was the current holder, I do know that he views the item as a means of back-up.

The crystal's main function is to enhance the magic of it's owner. As I told Eric earlier, everyone is born with power, and the Rosarius merely takes this power and amplifies it, by merging with it. As such, the gem becomes directly linked to the life of its holder; which means that from this point on, Kyle, your life and the crystal are connected." Jasper paused then, and Kyle saw him look off before, in a flash, his attention returned to the table. "On the matter of Trent, well, I suppose Damien wishes to use someone else to do the actual work. He doesn't strike me as the type to like getting his hands dirty."

"So, if something happens to the crystal, I'll die or something?" It wasn't a very pleasant thought and Kyle was beginning to realize just how dangerous this entire situation was. Seeing Jasper nod, the red-head groaned and placing his head in his hands, frowned, his mind racing. Why the hell was this happening to him? He'd never asked for anything like this, had never felt the need to be different or stand out. "Why me? Why did that Katharina woman give _me_ the crystal? I don't want it!"

For the first time since he'd been around the man, Kyle saw him frown and without really knowing why, the Jewish boy felt as if he'd said something he shouldn't have.

"Queen Katharina did not give _you_ the crystal, Kyle. She simply sent it out to be reborn within a soul of it's choosing, and for whatever reason, it chose you. Want it or not, it has been awakened within you and as such, it is your responsibility to take care of it and use it wisely." The words were said calmly, with no hint of anger and yet Kyle knew there was no room for argument; like it or not, he was stuck with this fate.

Silence quickly fell over the table, leaving the three boys lost in their own thoughts and unaware that they were being watched.

* * *

Kenny McCormick had not anticipated that morning, when he'd decided to visit the little run-down fast food joint in hopes of bumming some food off other kids, that he would see his best friends walk in with a man he had never seen before. Of course, at first, he had been far too occupied trying to convince Clyde that yes, he did in fact need his large order of fries to bother paying the four any mind; after all, he was pretty sure if the guy was anyone important, one of the three would have mentioned him. At the very least, Stan or Kyle would have told him.

Cartman didn't talk to him much these days, not after the little kiss incident.

However, after he had managed to steal half a burger and a small order of fries, Kenny began to notice that the conversation going on between the four didn't look casual. From his vantage point, Cartman looked pissed, even more so than usual, and he seemed to be keeping his gaze locked on Kyle. While it was nothing new to see the larger boy glaring at the Jewish boy, the fact that he _wasn't_ glaring made Kenny pay attention. Cartman had an odd look on his face, something past the anger that was almost akin to worry.

What did he have to be worried about that involved Kyle? Because even if he couldn't hear what was being said, Kenny knew it had something to do with Kyle. Most of the time, whatever Cartman did, involved Kyle in some way, big or small, even if the brunette didn't like to admit it. Kenny was pretty sure he was the only one of the four to notice it, and though he had his own theories, he also knew that it would do him no good voicing them. Neither Kyle nor Cartman would like hearing them, anyway.

Stan looked just as uncomfortable as Cartman, if not more, and though Kenny knew _that_ look was not new for his friend, there was something about it today that just didn't sit well with him. His friend looked stiff, grim, and like he wanted to be anywhere but sitting in that booth. Which didn't make much sense because, besides Wendy, there was no one Stan liked spending time with more than Kyle; even if Cartman was there, it usually did little to diminish Stan's joy at being around his best friend.

And Kyle…he caught Kenny's eye the most and the blonde found that, once his gaze landed on the red-head, he was unable to really look away. Everything about his Jewish buddy, from the defeated slump of his shoulders, to the lost look splayed across his features, sent alarm bells ringing in Kenny's head. Whatever that man was telling him, whatever they were discussing, wasn't good and he had a feeling that somehow, Kyle was at the center of it.

Kenny knew he was just a tad more perceptive than the others, which he mostly chalked up to all of his dealings with death, and as such, he was aware that most of the things he noticed, that he saw and heard, were things that went largely unnoticed by those around him. This however, was so obvious and so _there_ that he was surprised no one else in the restaurant seemed to be giving the group second glances.

Something was going on with his friends, something serious and though he had no idea what it was at the moment, he knew that when the time came, he would find out. One way, or another.


	7. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer:** South Park and all of its respective characters are the property of Matt Stone and Trey Parker. I own only this story's plot and any original characters that may pop up from time to time. Also, I am making no profit from this story.

**Warnings:** This story will contain slash (boys love, yaoi, etc.) as well as violence, swearing, and, well, most of the things you would probably hear in a regular episode of South Park. The boys are intended to be between the ages of 16-18 here.

* * *

**Chapter 06**

Trent liked to think he was accustomed to pain. Not the emotional, woe-is-me type of pain that so many kids his age complained about, but actual physical pain. He'd been in his fair share of fights over the course of his eighteen years, and he honestly couldn't recall the exact number of bones he'd had broken, or just how much blood he was sure he's lost by now.

This, however, was worse than anything he'd ever felt before. And only a few hours ago, he'd been stabbed.

Yet another cry escaped his throat as the blonde felt his body slam against the hard, marble wall before sliding to the floor in a crumpled heap. He was desperately trying to control his breathing and keep from passing out; no doubt, that would only piss Damien off more and if possible, that was something Trent wanted to avoid. The demon was already close to killing him for his recent failure, which in hindsight wasn't even really his fault; how was three against two fair?

"Trent, you disappoint me. After all I've done for you, this is how you repay me?"

The words cut through the hazy fog that was creeping through his mind and shifting his gaze toward the other, Trent frowned. Somehow, he didn't think that pointing out just how unhelpful Damien's so-called 'help' had been up to this point would do much for his situation. Slowly picking himself up, the blonde fought back the urge to say the many comments that were floating around his head, screaming to be let out.

The demon sat just mere feet from him, lounging lazily upon his throne and Trent had a feeling that if he wasn't being thrown around the room like a rag-doll, he might be wondering just what Damien hoped to achieve whilst doing nothing. As it were, he found it rather irritating that the man didn't even have to move to exert such force over him –- if he were _that_ pissed, he could at least get off his ass and dish out the punishment instead of being so leisurely about the whole thing.

"Honestly Trent, I even gave you a helper and still, you come back empty handed. It's almost like you have no real desire to live." Disappointment coated Damien's words and Trent found himself gritting his teeth, swallowing any retort he so desperately wanted to make. "Is it really that hard? I mean, they're school boys, not hardened warriors and yet--"

"Well neither am I! I'm no more experienced at this than they are and, if you hadn't noticed, it seems like every time I attack, they gain another ally!" He couldn't stop the words as they exploded from him and, deciding he'd already gone past the point of return, continued, growling darkly. "Damn it, Damien! I have no idea how the fuck Stan gained his own powers, but it wasn't my fault and there was no way I could deal with the three of them, not with Aradion burned beyond recognition and a sword sticking through my stomach!"

The silence that settled over the room was almost deafening and without meaning to, Trent found himself shifting awkwardly, feeling almost like a child who had just spoken back to an adult. He had no real way of knowing just how the prince would react to the outburst; every other time, Damien had seemed to be vaguely amused by his angry remarks, but of course, the demon hadn't been quite as _disappointed_ as he supposedly was now, either. Still, after a long moment, no reaction was made and the blonde felt his body relax when the others eyes slid closed, a bored expression falling over the pale face.

"I suppose you have a point, albeit a small one," the dark-haired youth said, his tone calm, "and perhaps, I have been going about this the wrong way. Yes, I believe that is the case. Very well, Trent, I will let this minor transgression slip. After all, as you said, there was no real way for you to deal with the three after being so badly wounded."

Not entirely sure he trusted this turn-around, Trent made no move to reply verbally and merely nodded, making sure to keep a close eye on Damien, watching for the slightest movement – it had, after all, taken only the faintest flick of the demon's wrist to send him flying across the room moments earlier, there was no reason to believe it couldn't –or wouldn't– happen again.

"Go and rest Trent, I shall think on what I wish to do next." Not needing to be told twice, Trent turned and headed for the doors, trying his best _not_ to let his limp show too much. His entire body felt like it was on fire and he hoped that, whatever plan Damien came up with, it would involve him not moving for the next few days. He had no idea how fast his body would heal, due to his inability to die and the presence of magic in his system, but he didn't think a few days in bed would be all that bad.

"Oh, and Trent?"

Visibly wincing at the words, Trent swallowed his sigh and turning, studied the demon. "Sir?"

The smile that greeted him sent a chill all through Trent, the likes of which he'd never felt before.

"Next time, I won't be so forgiving."

* * *

Cartman was beginning to discover a new level of hatred even he hadn't known was possible and all of it seemed to be directed toward a certain brunette who would not stop humming. It hadn't really bothered him at first – oh it had been irritating, as it was one of those ridiculously peppy melodies, but after about twenty minutes of hearing it on what appeared to be loop, he was ready to reach over and strangle Jasper.

It was sort of sad that, after a quick count, that had to be the fourth time he'd felt the urge to physically harm the man.

"Would you shut up?!" The words came out in a snarl, hands forcing they're way into his coat pockets as he gave Jasper a side-long glance. "I don't know where the hell you heard that song, but whatever it is, I'm about to make you forget it forever." Cartman was pleased to hear the man go silent, but his victory was short lived when the others annoyingly bright smile once against beamed back at him and he groaned, increasing his pace to, at least for now, put some distance between himself and the pest.

"I am sorry if it was bothering you Eric, but it is quite a catchy little tune, don't you think?" For just a moment, Cartman considered telling him just what he really thought, but he never got the chance, as without missing a beat, Jasper continued. "I cannot recall where I heard it, and I can assure you, it is driving me insane. I want to say I heard it during my travels, but nothing is really sticking out and..."

"Damn it, shut up! Don't you ever stop talking?" Turning on his heel, Cartman glared and ignoring the way both Stan and the Jew were staring at him, focused on Jasper, feeling his anger build when the man continued smiling. "I don't care where you heard the fucking thing, I just want you to be quiet for like, five minutes so I can hear myself think! And for the last damn time, stop calling me Eric!"

For a brief moment, silence gripped the group and just as Cartman went to turn back around, Jasper spoke, the bright expression still in place. "But, Eric is your name, is it not?"

Letting out a cry of frustration, Cartman continued the trek toward his home, trying to ignore the laughter that echoed behind him.

"Dude, you really need to chill." Not bothering to give Stan even a grunt of acknowledgment, Cartman chose to seethe in anger, and it wasn't he felt something bump against him that he bothered looking at all, a little surprised to find Kyle walking beside him.

"Come on fatass, you've been nothing but a bundle of anger these last few days and it's getting old. Lighten up, that's an order and since I'm technically sort-of royalty now, you have to obey me." A smirk had worked its way onto Kyle's face as he, once again, nudged Cartman.

Somehow, even if the half-attempted joke was nowhere near amusing, Cartman found the fury that was coiling tightly within him seemed to dull and raising an eyebrow, he scoffed, looking away from the Jew as he focused on the path in front of him, not wanting to think about why the words had such an effect on him. "I don't have to do anything, Jew." The words were said softly, and without their usual malice, causing Kyle's smirk to widen in victory and behind him, he heard both Stan and Jasper chuckle.

He just could not win today, it seemed.

When his house finally came into view, Cartman let out a sigh of relief and thinking this the first time he was ever truly grateful to see his home, frowned. Already, he could spot the empty driveway and guessing his mother would be returning late, nodded, at least glad she had good timing when it came to staying out late – the last thing he needed was his mother bustling around downstairs while they discussed the fact Damien wanted them dead.

"Hey, why is Kenny in front of your house?"

Grunting, Cartman went to ask Stan what the hell he was talking about only to stop and now able to spot the oh-so-familiar orange parka belonging to his friend, he frowned. Why _was_ Kenny at his house? He hadn't spoken to the boy outside of school in months, and though he had a feeling it was probably time he forgave the other, Cartman had made no active move to do so. Aside from being an annoying little prick, Kenny had the habit of prying into people's business and trying to understand their actions, claiming he knew people better than they thought. The whole death experience, he supposed.

If there was one thing Cartman hated, it was having people try to analyze his actions. It was right up there with hippies and Jews.

Instead of answering Stan, Cartman merely shook his head and waiting until they were close enough, lifted a hand, though upon realizing Kenny had already spotted them lowered it, frowning. "What the hell do you want?" He called, not bothering with formalities as they approached the boy. He was leaning casually against the front door and almost immediately, Cartman had the oddest sense that something wasn't right.

Kenny looked like he usually did, carefree and with that ever-present smirk on his face, but there was just something off, a sort of shadow cast over his mood, and for a moment, Cartman didn't want to talk to him, didn't want to mess with him – after everything that had happened so far, the last thing he needed in his life was _another_ problem. Especially one involving Kenny. Still, the question was already out and with the blonde's eyes focused solely on him now, the brunette knew it was too late to back out now. He just hoped he'd be able to get rid of him quickly.

"Well it's nice seeing you too, Cartman." The words were said playfully, with an almost airy-tone and yet there was something just beneath the surface that instantly had Cartman on guard. If Kenny noticed this, however, he decided not to pay it any mind and continued. "I was hoping you guys would introduce me to your friend there," the blonde went on, his head tilting forward as his eyes jumped away from Cartman, landing on Jasper.

"Ah yes, you must be Kenneth." Cartman had only a moment to register that Jasper was actually talking to Kenny before he felt the man brush past him, the sunny smile still held firmly in place. "I'm terribly sorry for the late introduction, my name is Jasper Lloyd. I'm Eric's cousin, visiting from Seattle. Along with Eric, Stanley and Kyle were helping to show me around, as this is my first time visiting your little town."

For a brief moment, Cartman had to admire the man's lying skills; he also had to wonder just how long Jasper might have been practicing such a speech, as it sounded a little rehearsed. Then again, the man did have an odd way of talking, so that would probably have something to do with it. Shifting his attention back onto Kenny, he waited, and hoping the boy would believe the lie, frowned, still not liking the odd feeling he was getting from his so-called friend.

"You're lying. I've seen pictures of Cartman's family and I can safely say that I've never seen you before. Now, why don't you tell me the truth?" Well, it seemed Kenny _did_ know how to read people. Snarling softly, Cartman stepped forward and yanking Jasper back, took his spot, glaring at Kenny. He knew there was no way they could just tell him what was going on, it just wouldn't be a smart idea.

"We're not lying, Kenny, Jasper really is Cartman's cousin." Kyle's voice broke through the air and feeling the Jewish boy appear beside him, Cartman stiffened, not liking the effect the red-head was having on him – at least the boy seemed willing enough to lie to Kenny. "We were just showing him around, that's all."

"Plus," Cartman said, quickly interjecting before Kyle could continue speaking, "it's not like you know my entire family tree and it certainly isn't any of your business. Now we're a bit busy, so if you'd kindly get your ass off my front porch and head on back to your little trailer park, that would be awesome." He caught the glare Kyle shot toward him, but at the moment, he couldn't really bring himself to care. If they were going to get on with the discussion, they needed to ditch Kenny and he figured the best way would be to piss him off.

Luckily, pissing people off was a skill Cartman knew very well.

Kenny's eyes narrowed for only a moment before he pushed himself away from the house and shrugging, shoved his hands inside the pockets of his parka. Hopping off the porch, he strode past the small group, not bothering to look at any of them, his eyes closing. Cartman made no move to turn and watch him leave, content with the knowledge that his method had worked and they could get on with what was really important.

When the footsteps paused, however, the brunette frowned and twisting his head just enough to spot Kenny next to his mailbox, he glared. He watched as the other boy pulled one hand out of his parka, his fingers moving to curl around the little red flag attached to the black box. Kenny said nothing and after only another brief minute, Cartman growled, wondering just what he was playing at. "Anything else?"

"I know you three are hiding something and I don't like being lied to, especially by my friends. If you don't want to tell me, fine, but I will find out." Flicking the red flag so that it was now standing straight up, Kenny turned, and smirking, lifted a hand in farewell. "That's all, have fun!" He turned then and continued down the sidewalk, humming a light tune. Cartman could only watch as the boy slowly began to fade from view and rolling his eyes, moved toward his door, putting the incident out of his mind.

He had bigger things to worry about now, anyway.

* * *

Liars.

Making his way down the deserted sidewalk, Kenny frowned. Just how stupid did they think he was? There was no way in hell he could believe that man was Cartman's cousin, it was plain as day, all you had to do was look at them and anyone with a shred of sense could figure it out. Even Kyle had been in on the lie! That was probably what hurt the most, as Kenny knew that of the four, Kyle was always the boy who tried to do the right thing – even when the rest of them were content with just doing things the easy way.

He knew something was up with them and he had every intention of finding out just what that something was, because if there was one thing Kenny would not stand for, it was being kept in the dark. They were his friends, and though he knew they had the right to keep certain things from him, he was positive that this wasn't just some little thing. It was big, and whatever it was, he had a feeling that it wasn't good.

Steps faltering then, the blonde swung back around and still able to see Cartman's house, scowled, glaring at the structure. He had to figure out just how he would get the information out of them. Oh, he could spy on them, that was obviously the first course of action that sprung to mind – it was also the most cliche and probably the one they would be expecting. He supposed if he really wanted to get serious, he could corner Kyle or Stan, as he was sure that with the right amount of pressuring, either one would break.

If possible, he wanted to avoid Cartman, as he wasn't really keen on ending up in the nurses office again. Or the hospital.

Giving the house one last, lingering look he shook his head and continued back towards town, his mind already racing to come up with a plan.

* * *

Settling himself down on Cartman's bed, Kyle frowned and thinking it had been quite a while since he'd last seen the room, chuckled, glad to find not much had changed. At least the giant picture of Mel Gibson was gone, he was pleased to see. Stan sat just in front of him, having chosen the desk over the bed and he saw Jasper hovering near the door, waiting for Cartman to return from the bathroom.

"Something seemed a little odd about your friend, Kenneth." Jasper's voice broke through the silence of the room and Kyle found himself only able to nod, agreeing with Jasper's words. He had noticed it the moment he spotted the boy, almost like a dark cloud had been cast over his usually cheerful friend and the fact did little to ease the guilt he felt for lying to Kenny. Kyle hated lying, not just because he believed it usually led to more trouble than it was worth, but also because he wasn't that great at it. He'd be able to carry it for a little while, then he would somehow mess himself up, trip over his words and reveal the lie.

Overall, lying was something Kyle tried to avoid and yet he seemed to be doing it a lot lately.

"Yeah, Kenny did seem a little pissed. Then again, if I knew my friends were lying to me, I guess I would be too," Stan said, and without meaning to, Kyle felt himself wince, wondering just how much of that was aimed toward him. He supposed Stan had a right to be a bit bitter about this whole mess, after all if Kyle had told him, then at the very least it wouldn't have been such a shock – Stan never did well with sudden surprises, that much the Jewish boy knew for sure.

Looking up then, Kyle spotted Cartman and watching as the brunette moved inside, closing the door behind him, frowned. Cartman didn't look good and though Kyle knew he really shouldn't care, he found himself wondering just what was going on in the other boy's head. Did he feel bad for lying to Kenny? Probably not, but the two had been close friends, at one point and that wasn't something easily tossed aside. Even for an emotionally-challenged bastard like Eric Cartman.

Almost instantly, the worry that had cast itself over Jasper's features vanished and the smile returned as he chuckled, clapping his hands together. Kyle was beginning to find the man's good mood a little creepy, as he knew from experience that someone who normally acted that happy was hiding something and he was starting to see just how Cartman could stay annoyed with the man. Then again, he was exposed to it day and night; at least Kyle could leave. For a brief second, the Jewish boy felt something almost akin to pity for the larger boy.

"Now that we're all here, I suppose we can dive a little deeper. Now that you know about the crystal itself, I think we can move onto your powers. As I said earlier, every human is born with magic, however most of the time that power remains dormant and they go their entire lives without realizing it – however on rare occasions, should the need arise, the power can manifest itself.

In times of crisis, when the need to protect either our own lives or the lives of those we care for is great, the magic will awaken. Almost like an adrenaline rush, if you will. Sometimes, it remains active and eventually the person will come to acknowledge it, while other times it will go back to sleep, until it is needed again. This usually depends on how strong the individual's spirit is, and whether or not it can sustain the magic. As I explained to Eric earlier, his powers were awakened by Kyle and as such, they're magic is connected." Hearing his name, Kyle blinked and taking a moment to let the information sink in, frowned, leaning back.

"So, Cartman's powers are linked to my own?" When he received a nod in response, the red-head looked toward Cartman, who was leaning against his dresser. The information didn't really come as a shock, considering that Cartman himself had said roughly the same thing the other day, during their hallway discussion. Still, hearing it from someone else seemed to finalize it and make it factual, not just speculative.

"How the hell does that work?" Stan asked, a look of confusion falling over his features.

"Well, for one, Eric can only use his full power when he is in close proximity to Kyle. This stems from the fact that his powers were awakened to protect Kyle and the crystal. As for your magic, Stanley, though I am sure Kyle had something to do with triggering it's use, you were the main reason it was activated. You needed a way to protect yourself from harm and it answered the call." Well, at the very least Kyle didn't have to worry about feeling guilty over _that_ one.

"So, you're saying Stan can use his powers whenever he wants, but in order to use mine the Jew has to be around?" When Jasper merely nodded, Kyle heard Cartman let out a low string of curses and rolling his eyes, sighed. "Well what if I get attacked and the Jew isn't there? What the fuck am I supposed to do then?"

"Given time and practice, Eric, you should be able to control your powers to the point where they will be fully functional without needing Kyle's presence." Jasper responded before he shifted and motioning Cartman forward, chuckled. "But first, I would like to get a good idea of how closely related your magic is to Kyle's. So if you and Kyle would please come forward, we can get started."

Something about that idea didn't sit well with Kyle and though a little voice in his mind told him to say no, he had a feeling there was really no way out of it. Looking toward Stan, he saw his friend shrug and not thinking he was any help, sighed heavily, pushing himself off the bed as the moved forward, seeing Cartman do the same in the corner of his eyes.

"Now, Eric, I'd like for you to call your power up. Not all of it, of course, but just enough to resonate with Kyle. While he is doing that," Jasper continued, turning to look at Kyle, "I would like for you to do the same. Once you both have done this, I want you to concentrate only on one another and nothing else. This will allow the magic to connect and, hopefully, I will be able to determine just how closely intertwined they are."

Thinking that sounded a bit like what he and Cartman had experienced the other day in school, Kyle nodded and saw Cartman lift his hand, the bright light quickly erupting to life, the orb flaring wildly. Feeling something within him click almost instantly, Kyle inhaled deeply and, letting it out slowly, closing his eyes as he tried bringing his own magic out, surprised when he was able to find it with ease. Immediately he felt the familiar warmth spreading through him and he made a small sound, still not used to the sensation.

Before he knew what was happening, he felt something press against his chest, covering the very spot where he knew his magic chose to surface. Gasping lightly at the touch, he opened his eyes and just a little shocked to see Cartman standing so close now, found himself unable to move away, something inside of him demanding he get closer and without thinking, his hands started moving, finding their way toward the brunette's own chest.

Everything around him seemed to fall away and all Kyle found himself able to focus on was Cartman, and the magic pouring out of the boy. It seemed to brush against his own energy, a delicate caress that sent a jolt running through his body. He felt something hot press against his lower back and realizing the brunette was pulling him closer, swallowed, feeling as if he were going to drown, his head swimming amidst the heat. The hand burned through his shirt and yet, he couldn't find the will to break this contact, didn't want to shatter this moment.

His mind felt as if it were going through overdrive, thoughts raced around his head and Kyle wasn't sure what any of them meant. They contained images, ideas, words, and even names that he'd never seen or even heard of before. Yet, through it all, only one of them seemed to stand out, clear among the blur. Wolfram. It made no sense, Kyle had never known anyone by that name and yet, it seemed to stick at the very forefront of his mind. Perhaps if he could think--

Unfortunately, a rather loud cough broke the spell and Kyle felt himself jerked back to the present, his eyes widening as he froze. He felt Cartman go still and swallowing, both boys looked at one another, as if seeing the other for the first time. Feeling his face flush, Kyle immediately let go of Cartman's shirt, not aware that he'd even grabbed it and he felt the larger boy release him, taking a large step back.

Casting a quick glance toward Jasper and Stan, Kyle was horrified to see them both staring rather intently, and hating how hot his face felt, groaned, burying his head in his hands. He heard Cartman curse softly and unable to bring himself to even look at the other boy, swallowed, wondering just why the universe seemed hell-bent on messing with him all of a sudden. What had he ever done wrong? Not counting a few instances, of course, Kyle was sure he'd led a rather good life.

"Well, uh, thank you boys, I think that clears a few things up." At least grateful that the man was kind enough to sound uncomfortable, Kyle nodded and quickly turned, making his way back to the bed, sincerely thankful to see Cartman return to his previous post beside his dresser. "Yes, well, the bond is strong, that much is certain. Stanley, why don't we take a look at your power now?" Jasper's voice sounded a bit strained and the Jewish boy could tell he was desperately trying to change the subject and not entirely minding, he turned his attention toward Stan, wishing with all his might that the boy would stop staring at him like he'd grown a second head.

"Uh, sure." Stan stood, and though he looked a little uncertain, Kyle watched as he made his way toward Jasper. "So, what do I do exactly?"

"The concept is essentially the same. Since you are not in any immediate danger, you will need to coax the power out," Jasper explained and reaching out, he took Stan's hand, lifting it. "The palm is the easier of the body's focal points, so try and direct it toward that point."

"It also helps if you try not to think about anything else," Kyle added, and doing his best to ignore Cartman, focused solely on Stan, offering his friend a slight smile.

A nod, and a soft smile in return, were his only responses and he watched as Stan's eyes closed, his chest rising as he took in a deep breath. It felt odd watching the actual process, to see it happening without really experiencing it and Kyle wondered idly if he looked that calm when he was the one trying to use his own power.

Then, a spark caught his eye and he watched as fire burst to life within Stan's hand, the flames flickering as they dyed his friend's skin a light, orange hue. He saw the boy twitch and wondering just briefly what it felt like to hold fire, smiled, temporarily forgetting his earlier embarrassment as he clapped. "Looks good, dude!"

"Thanks man," Stan said, his eyes sliding open as he studied the fire, not entirely sure what he should make of it. "It feels weird, really warm but not enough to burn, if that makes sense."

"My power feels warm too, I guess because it's part of us or something?" The explanation seemed logical enough, though Kyle still felt his gaze shift toward Jasper, having learned already that in this situation, logic wasn't always what it appeared to be.

"Yes, because your magic is connected closely to the soul, it often gives a very warm feeling when used." Jasper's smile was back to full swing as he took a step back, studying the flame. "It looks very good Stanley, you all have amazing control over your powers, it's quite extraordinary. Still, a little practice can never hurt, so I think it would be beneficial if we worked a little on improving your skills."

Almost instantly, Kyle felt his good mood drop – when would they have time for practice? They had school to worry about, plus Stan had football and Kyle was pretty sure his mother wouldn't approve if his grades suddenly started to slip, not to mention he and Cartman still hadn't started on that project of theirs. They hadn't even picked a person to research! Yet, the red-head also knew that the better they could wield their powers, the better chance they stood against Damien and Trent.

"Since I am not that use to this town and its layout," Jasper continued, now looking around the room, "would any of you boys know of a good, ideally isolated, spot in which we could practice?"

"Uh, the woods? Not many people go there anymore, too many weird things have happened," Stan offered, looking a little hesitant to voice his own suggestion.

"That sounds wonderful, so unless you boys have anything else you wish to discuss today, how about we call it a day and get some rest? It's been quite, ah, eventful," Jasper paused and Kyle felt his face flush once more, "so I think we could all use it."

"Great, that means these fags can get out of my house," Cartman snapped, not bothering to look at any of them from his perch near the far all, arms crossed as he glared at the door.

Giving the boy a slight dirty look, Kyle pushed himself off the bed and making his way toward the door, paused, turning back toward Cartman. "Fine, but tomorrow, we need to pick someone for that project. I don't care what else is going on, I am not failing, fatass." Then, without giving the brunette time to respond, he left, heading for the stairs. Behind him, he could hear Cartman cursing and smirking at his victory, chuckled, leaving the house.

He wanted to go home and process everything that had happened so far. Behind him, he heard Stan call his name and turning, waited for his best friend, trying to put both the awkward incident, and the odd name, out of his thoughts for now.


	8. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer:** South Park and all of its respective characters are the property of Matt Stone and Trey Parker. I own only this story's plot and any original characters that may pop up from time to time. Also, I am making no profit from this story.

**Warnings:** This story will contain slash (boys love, yaoi, etc.) as well as violence, swearing, and, well, most of the things you would probably hear in a regular episode of South Park. The boys are intended to be between the ages of 16-18 here.

* * *

**Chapter 07**

Wendy liked to think that she was a patient, levelheaded girlfriend. She didn't call Stan every five minutes, she had learned to control her temper when he interacted with other females (provided a reasonable distance was kept), and most importantly, she in no way tried to threaten his relationship with Kyle. That, more than anything, was probably the reason she and Stan were still going out – it didn't take a rocket scientist to look at the pair and know that Kyle was pretty much the most important thing to Stan.

Oh, naturally, Stan denied it; said she was just imagining things, but she knew better. She could see it every time the two were together, the almost undivided attention Stan would give Kyle and the sad thing was, Wendy had a feeling that the Jewish boy was completely oblivious to all of it, positive that he had no idea just how valued he was in Stan's eyes.

Then again, with the history that the two shared, she supposed it was probably all second-nature to them now. The red-head was, and always would be, the main focal point of Stan Marsh's life.

To her credit, however, Wendy thought she handled the knowledge rather well. She was what most would deem second place, yes, but she'd known that going into the relationship and she knew that, in his own way, Stan loved her the best he could; for now, at least, she was content to live with that.

Wendy also liked to think that she knew her boyfriend better than even he did, and that was why it had taken only one look at him this morning to send ice running through her veins. She had not seen Stan for almost two days, both of them being caught up with other activities, and yet with only a mere glance, she knew something was terribly wrong.

By outward appearances, nothing seemed amiss; he was doing what he did practically every morning – hang around some random locker and talk to Kyle, a routine he'd yet to break. It was something that always came first, and as per usual, Kyle was busy loading his bag up with textbooks and binders, all the while replying to whatever random thing his best-friend had chosen as the topic for the day.

It was normal. It was expected – the only thing _not_ expected was the presence of Eric Cartman. He threw the picture out of whack and he was that characteristic little red-flag that sent Wendy's mind into full overdrive.

What in the world was Cartman doing there? Aside from his locker being stationed near Kyle's, she almost never found the larger boy interacting with the others anymore. Most of the time, he chose to simply ignore them and on the rare occasion he did spare the pair any sort of acknowledgment, it was to insult them. So the very fact that he was standing there, obviously involved in whatever conversation was taking place, told Wendy that _something_ was going on.

Determined to solve this early-morning mystery, Wendy steeled herself and taking a deep breath, headed for the group, calling up her best smile once she was close enough for it to matter. "Good morning, Stan." She was only mildly surprised to see the boy jump at her voice and not at all liking how uncomfortable he suddenly seemed, did her best to keep the smile in place, forcing out a slight laugh. "It's just me, you act like you've seen a ghost."

"No, just a hippie-bitch."

Turning her attention toward Cartman, Wendy frowned and resisting the urge to say something in retaliation, settled for simply given him a dirty look before once again focusing on Stan (though, she did not miss the glare Kyle shot the brunette, nor the way Cartman quickly looked off).

"Dude, don't call my girlfriend a bitch," Stan shot back and taking a second to feel pleased that he was taking up for her, waited, watching as his eyes returned to her. "Sorry about that, it's just, you kind of came outta nowhere Wendy." The smile he gave her was sheepish and while normally she enjoyed such an expression, today she could tell it was as forced as her own bright grin.

For a long moment, silence fell over the group and Wendy shifted awkwardly, having the sudden feeling that she was intruding on something. She could tell that whatever they had been discussing earlier was not something meant for her ears. Running a hand through her dark hair, the girl swallowed and licking her lips, tried breaking the quiet.

"Stan, is everything all right? You've seemed a little," she paused, and searching for the right word, sighed, "distracted, lately."

Oh, now she definitely knew something was up. Almost before the words had time to leave her mouth completely, she saw all three of them tense just enough for her to tell that she had asked the wrong question. Wendy watched as Stan exchanged a brief glance with not only Kyle, but _Cartman_, before he looked at her, his smile trying to regain its place on his features.

"No, everything's cool, Wendy," he started, and she felt his hand move to brush against her arm, in what she thought was his attempt at comforting her. Instead, it felt cold and she had to fight the instinct to pull away. "Football practice has just been a bitch lately, y'know?"

So, that was it? With only a simple 'it's all good' and a smile, he thought her worries were supposed to just go away? She quickly thought about telling him how football practice wouldn't be starting for another two weeks before dismissing the idea – it would lead to an argument, and Wendy had a feeling that if she wanted to find anything out, fighting would not help.

Plus, it was far too early for that sort of thing.

So, she merely gave him a sweet smile, kissed his cheek and nodded. "Of course, well I have to go meet Heidi, so I'll see you later Stan." Pausing to give Kyle a brief wave, she turned and started back down the corridor, the smile vanishing from her face.

She would wait, pretend that nothing was wrong until eventually, Stan slipped and she could catch him in whatever lie he was trying to weave. He could never lie to her for very long, and she knew that soon, he would trip himself up, just like he always did. Then, she would get her answer.

It was only a matter of time.

* * *

"God, you are such a fucking pussy, Stan," Cartman sneered, leaning back against the lockers, his hands sliding into his coat pockets. "All the hippie has to do is say your name, and you jump for the bitch," he continued, chuckling at the memory. Honestly, could the boy get any more pathetic?

"Oh, shut the hell up," Stan snarled, and Cartman watched as his head turned to stare at his retreating girlfriend's form, and for just a brief moment, the brunette wondered if the boy might run after her – in the end, however, he stayed rooted to the spot and merely turned his attention back toward Kyle.

"What? It's true, and you know it, Marsh. I swear, that bitch has you wrapped around all ten fingers. All she has to do is snap and bam, Stan Marsh is right there, ready for whatever command her twisted little mind has come up with." Which was partially true, or it was at least how Cartman saw things – it seemed that no matter what outrageous idea the hippie came up with, Stan was willing to go along with it.

It was disgusting, really.

"Seriously, Cartman, shut the fuck up," hissed Stan, who was beginning to look torn between guilt over the fact he'd just lied to his girlfriend and anger over the jabs that continued to fly his way. The entire thing was incredibly predictable, and Cartman suddenly found himself growing bored, eyes wandering away from the other.

"Fine, geez, if you're going to get all pissy about it," the larger boy muttered, and shifting his weight against the lockers, smirked. "Though, I do hope you remember that football practice doesn't start for another two weeks."

Judging by the way Stan's face suddenly seemed to lose all color, Cartman had a feeling that no, the boy had _not_ remembered that little fact.

"Oh, shit." The dark-haired youth looked as if he were about to pass out and Cartman had to fight the urge to laugh, suddenly finding the entire situation amusing once more. "How the hell did I forget that? I'm the fucking quarterback! Damn, do you think she caught it? I mean, I don't think she really keeps up with it but--"

"Stan," Kyle interjected, tone calming as he stood, the movement causing Cartman to lean away, not liking how close they suddenly were. "Chill, I'm sure she didn't even notice, I mean Wendy doesn't even care about football."

As to be expected, Kyle's words seemed to ease Stan's worry and Cartman felt his eyes roll of their own accord, resisting the urge to gag at the sight. If there was anything more pathetic than watching Stan follow Wendy around like a lost puppy, it was seeing just how easily the idiot believed anything that damned daywalker said.

"Hey, can we get back on topic please? Spending the morning with you two lovebirds is not exactly an ideal way to start one's day." As if on cue, Cartman found himself on the receiving end of two dark glares and not really enjoying the odd vibe he was getting from Kyle's look, scoffed, turning away from the pair, brown eyes focused on the opposite wall.

"Listen, if we're going to get through this, then we need to work together and try to get along," Kyle finally said, and the brunette shook his head, making a dismissive sound. Oh, now that was a song he'd heard before and it was a tune he was not overly fond of, to be quite honest. Just what the fuck did the Jew think this was, some Saturday morning cartoon?

His response did not go unnoticed by the red-head, who made a rather disgruntled sound, slamming his locker shut. "Fine," Kyle snarled, "you want to ignore what's going on? Well, go right ahead! Just pretend nothing's wrong and let yourself get killed, I don't care!"

_This_ managed to draw Cartman's gaze away from the wall, just in time to see Kyle turn and storm down the hall, body tense with anger. It was an all-too familiar sight; just how many times had he pushed the Jew too far, only to have the damn kike take the supposed 'higher ground' and walk off, like some bitch in a huff? Too many times to count, he was sure, and yet this time something seemed different, almost as if there were something off about the situation.

He just could not pin-point what that 'something' was, exactly.

All Cartman knew was that, as he stood there watching Kyle leave, one thought seemed to ripple through his mind: stop him.

Ignoring Stan's irritated look, the larger boy pushed away from the lockers and brushing past his other, so-called friend, headed after Kyle. No one walked away from Eric Cartman – especially not a fucking daywalker.

Though the red-head had put a considerable amount of distance between them, Cartman managed to close it rather quickly and, thankful for his longer leg span, reached out, hand wrapping around the Jew's arm as he tugged, wrenching him back. The action earned him a startled yelp and he grimaced, twisting to brace Kyle's stumble.

"Let me go, fatass!" Kyle's voice was shrill, echoing in the hallway and somehow it managed to rise above the loud chatter that was the school's morning soundtrack. In a flash, all other noise seemed to die and now hyper-aware of the stares they were attracting, Cartman snarled, his grip tightening as the boy began struggling. Fuck, did he have to make this so difficult?

"Would you shut up," he hissed and beginning to grow tired of the onlookers, turned, heading back toward his own locker. He dragged the still fighting Jew behind him, once again thankful that his physical strength dwarfed the others, confident that Kyle would be unable to break free – not that it stopped the boy from trying, of course, and the brunette was only slightly surprised when something slammed into the back of his leg.

Letting out a rather explosive string of expletives, Cartman hurried his pace through the corridor, shoving past anyone stupid enough to remain in his way. Honestly, he had no idea why he was even doing this, why he hadn't just let the Jew storm off and pout. This was far more effort than he usually wasted on the boy, and it just didn't make any--

"Cartman, let me go!"

Without warning, a wave of need surged through the brunette, followed almost immediately after by a sharp jolt of pain that seemed to reverberate through every nerve in his body. He felt as if something were pulling him in two different directions and cursing vehemently, Cartman snatched his hand away from Kyle's arm, placing it against his forehead, slowing to a staggering stop.

Feeling almost like he had just been hit by a truck, he squeezed his eyes shut, trying to regain his breath – whatever it was, it had slammed into him with enough force to knock the air from his lungs. The pain itself, however, was already starting to fade; had, in fact, dulled considerably from almost the exact moment his contact with Kyle was broken.

What the hell had just happened?

Before he could even begin to go over any possible theories, he felt something light press against his back and recognizing (without knowing _how_) the touch as Kyle's, he turned, eyes opening as he stared at the other. The boy had the oddest look on his face, as if torn between worry and horror, and Cartman wasn't sure what to make of it. Then, Kyle spoke, and he suddenly found that he really didn't want to make sense of it.

"That was me, wasn't it?"

* * *

Stepping out of the kitchen, Jasper frowned and staring at the blackened remains of what had, only moments ago, been a perfectly fine sandwich, felt himself sigh, suddenly finding his appetite all but gone. Making his way toward the couch, he sat down and leaning into the soft cushions, allowed his eyes to close, food forgotten.

Things were going well, or well enough. The boys were quite willing to listen to him and even Eric, who never missed a chance to complain, nevertheless followed his orders with only a minimal amount of hesitation. Oh, there was still that Kenneth boy to deal with – he had an odd air about him, something otherworldly and having experienced encounters with things like that before, Jasper knew he would have to be careful in his handling of the blonde youth.

Still, dealing with him would be easy enough. After all, he need only give the boy what he thought was after – an answer, something to tide him over, and never mind that it would be false. Of course, there was always the other way...

No. That would have to be a last resort, as it was too risky to attempt right now, when the trust he was building with the other three was still so fresh.

Everything was still so fragile right now, and Jasper knew that one wrong move would bring it crashing down all around him. He needed to be cautious, and while he had no doubt in his abilities, he knew all-too well that the actions of those around him were often the catalyst for his own failures.

At the very least, his charges were doing well in the magic department. Eric and Kyle, especially – the strength of their separate powers, added to the bond they shared was something that, while unexpected, was not unwelcome. He would need that strength, if he had any hope of achieving his goal.

If it helped keep them alive for a while longer, well, then all the better.

* * *

Somewhere, very close to him, the most annoying melody was playing.

Forcing his eyes open, Trent groaned and pushing himself up slowly, let his gaze sweep across the small room, placing it instantly. The gray walls were rather telling, after all. Damien had given him the room after they had first arrived in Hell, and though it was definitely a step above his old quarters back in Juvenile Hall, he found the room gave off a rather depressing vibe.

Not surprising, they were in Hell, after all.

"Well, it seems as if you have finally decided to rejoin the living, in a manner of speaking."

Body snapping to the alert, Trent turned and spotting the source of the voice, felt his eyes widen. "Aradion?" The demon was seated leisurely upon his bed's headboard, tail swaying idly behind him as one foot bobbed up and down, as if keeping time with it. Twisting so he could get a better look at the creature, Trent frowned, eyes narrowing.

He looked completely unharmed, as if the previous battle had never even taken place. It made absolutely no sense – of course, Trent was pretty sure by now, that was something he should be used to. Logic seemed to have checked out of his life, for what appeared to be an extended vacation.

"Aren't you going to thank me for healing your wounds? My, but your generation is rude." The blonde watched as the demon slid off the headrest, landing gracefully on the floor, taking a moment to adjust his hat and deciding to ignore the jab at his manners, settled for rolling his eyes. "After Damien was finished, ah, _speaking_ with you I took the liberty of healing you; wasn't as if I had much of a choice," he added, and Trent swallowed as those purple eyes swung back toward him. "You looked rather pathetic, laying there all broken."

Irritation rising at the insult, Trent glared before allowing the rest of the creature's words to sink in and, making a light sound, looked down, studying himself. True enough, his wounds were gone; even the lingering pain of Damien's previous beating had vanished, though a slight ache seemed to linger among his joints. No doubt, that would take a little longer to fade.

"Wouldn't I have healed on my own?" He asked, knowing that he did possess the ability. After giving his soul to the demon prince, he had in return received not only semi-immortality (which was, contrary to popular belief, not all it was cracked up to be), but also something akin to accelerated healing.

Of course, there was almost nothing 'accelerated' about it, really. Damien had made it very clear that it would never be an instantaneous thing; it would speed the process up, but time was still a very key factor, depending on the severity of the wounds and the cause behind them. Broken bones could take a few hours, whereas missing limbs could take weeks. Any wound caused by magic would, likewise, take longer to heal.

So in actuality, there was nothing very glamorous about any of his new, so-called superpowers. It just meant if he was dealt a fatal blow, instead of dying, he got to lie around writhing in pain until his body was able to heal itself.

"Well, yes," Aradion said suddenly, and Trent found himself forced out of his own thoughts, shaking his head, "but it would have taken much longer. That ability isn't natural for your body, yet, and the injuries were just a little outside of your range." Well, that was probably true. Never before had he ever really needed to worry about healing himself (though, the ability might have come in handy during all those scuffles), and while it helped to know he would have gotten it _eventually_, he was grateful to Aradion for saving him the trouble.

It was a very odd feeling, and one he didn't really enjoy.

"Thank you, then," he finally muttered, voice straining with the unfamiliar phrase; he didn't have much experience in thanking others, or even knowing what it was liked to be helped. Wishing to push those awkward emotions and thoughts down, Trent shook his head, focusing all of his attention on the demon. "Still, what about you? Last time I saw you, you were just a little on the crispy side."

Oh, if looks could kill.

"I am in the service of Damien," the creature finally replied, continuing to give Trent a rather nasty look, "so long as my contract with him exists, I am in much the same boat as you." Which the blonde knew to mean that, basically, so long as Damien had a use for them, they weren't going anywhere. Period.

Letting out a rather explosive sigh, Trent fell back on the bed and placing his arms behind his head, frowned, staring up at the dull ceiling. He felt tired, worn out, and he had a feeling that it wouldn't be going away anytime soon; not so long as his soul belonged to another. Was this what it felt like to be immortal? To know that no matter what happened, you were bound to this life? If so, then Trent was pretty sure he would like to return it.

"Hey," he started suddenly, brown eyes sliding to look at Aradion, "when this is all over, what do you think Damien will do with me?" The question had been buzzing around in his mind ever since he first arrived in Hell. Oh, he knew Damien wouldn't simply let him leave, but what other use could the demon prince have for him? A brief image of him dressed as a butler flashed through his mind and the youth quickly pushed it down, shuddering at the very thought.

He would fight for Damien, but he'd be damned if he served the boy tea. Or, whatever it was demon's drank.

"No doubt, he will find some other use for you, to keep you busy," Aradion replied, and Trent frowned, his previous butler image once again straining to pop back up. "Of course, he may bypass that entirely and simply kill you, but it never hurts to stay positive."

Beginning to regret even opening his mouth, Trent shook his head and eyes moving back toward the ceiling, swallowed. "So, has Damien mentioned anything to you about when we're supposed to go back after Kyle? You know, so he can get another helper and we can get our asses kicked, because that's exactly how I like spending my evenings." Sarcasm dripped heavily from his voice, but at the moment, he could not be bothered to care – he was getting tired of this whole thing.

"He did mention that you would be sent out, later, but aside from that he hasn't spoken much to me. I am not sure," the demon continued, leaping back onto the bed as he took a seat, "I am unsure as to whether or not I will be accompanying you. Though, I do hope for the chance, I have some unfinished business with that dark-haired fool."

"Stan." An odd look greeted him, and Trent chuckled, closing his eyes. "His name is Stan, and yeah, he has a habit of jumping in where he doesn't belong, plus, setting you on fire was kind of a low blow." Never mind that at the time, Aradion had been ready to do the same to him. Feeling a yawn work its way out, he stretched and rolling over, grunted. "Well then, since Damien isn't in any sort of rush right now, I guess I'll catch a little more sleep, mind not humming that annoying tune?"

"Of course," Aradion stated, and the blonde felt the bed beside him lift, realizing that the demon had returned to his previous spot on the headrest. Deciding to ignore how odd it felt to have someone watch him as he slept, Trent merely let his body relax, finding it relatively easy to sleep into the odd throes of sleep.

* * *

South Park woods had, at one time, been a popular hangout spot, for both children and adults. Even now, Kyle could still remember many of the so-called 'adventures' experienced by he and his friends in the forest. Now, however, the area was largely ignored and avoided, having been deemed a dangerous spot. Which, while not all that far from the truth, still seemed a little unfair to the red-head.

After all, it wasn't as if the forest had asked to be the place of so many odd happenings.

Nevertheless, the isolation had, so far, proved to work in their favor recently. They were free to practice and work on developing their powers without really having to worry about someone simply walking by. Today, especially, Kyle was thankful for the seclusion – he needed to speak with Jasper, and he really wasn't keen on having just anyone overhear.

At the moment, however, he was content to remain seated under one of the many trees that circled the small clearing that had chosen as their 'practice spot.' Usually, at this point in the training session, Kyle found himself with little to do; his powers weren't entirely offensive, at this point, and so most of the time, he merely sat on the side, watching Stan and Cartman.

Oh, that was not to say Jasper didn't give him something to do. The first half of the session was normally when the Jewish youth would get his own practice in. It was during this time that Jasper chose to work on the bond shared between the two; to test its limitations and work on exceeding them, to the point where, eventually, it would all become second nature.

His own magic was a key factor in how strong or weak Cartman's powers were, and until the larger boy learned to sync completely with them, he would continue to rely on Kyle, and the bond. Which was probably why Jasper had them work on the bond first – it usually enabled Cartman to raise his power level, to where he and Stan could finish off the lesson, sparring.

As a result, this usually left Kyle as a mere spectator, and he often found himself wondering if that was all he would ever be. Then again, if it meant avoiding the awkward situations he and Cartman somehow ended up in every time they tested the connection, he really didn't think it was so bad.

"Cartman, you asshole! That was a cheap shot!"

The harsh voice broke past Kyle's own thoughts and, looking back toward the fighting pair, he blinked, watching as Stan lifted himself off the ground. If anything, his friend's irritated look was only matched by the smug smirk present on Cartman's features and he sighed, recognizing this instantly. It seemed that no matter what, they could never get through a gathering without the two taking the spar just a little too seriously.

"What? You should have been paying attention, idiot! Not my fault I'm stronger than you," Cartman mocked, and Kyle felt his eyes roll, though he was unable to truly deny that statement.

While Cartman, and his powers, were at the moment placed under certain limitations, due in part to the nature of their awakening, he was still stronger than Stan. The fact had taken them all by surprise, though to his credit, Cartman recovered rather quickly, somehow finding the whole thing entertaining and, as he said, 'perfectly justified.'

"Boys, please! You'll get nowhere if you continue to take these fights personally," Jasper chided, and for just a brief moment, Kyle felt like they were in school – their so-called 'mentor' just had such a teacher-like voice, that the red-head almost expected him to demand notebooks be taken out and homework be assigned.

"Can we call it a day? I know we've only been at this for an hour or so, but I gotta get home," Stan started, lifting a hand as he pushed it through his hair, "my mom is trying out some new recipe and we were all pretty much ordered to be there for it."

"Well, I would have liked to get a little more practice in, but I suppose if you have previous engagements than I am not at liberty to hold you up." A shadow of disappointment seemed to cast itself over Jasper's features, and Kyle frowned, thinking the expression looked odd on the man, still, at least it wasn't a – oh, there was the smile again.

"Thanks, I'll make it up next time," Stan promised and moving back toward the tree Kyle was currently stationed under, he grabbed his bag, giving his friend a smile. "Ready?"

This was his chance and, as much as Kyle usually enjoyed walking home with Stan, he found himself shaking his head, trying to return the smile. He still needed to talk to Jasper, and though it pained him to think it, he knew it would be a little easier without Stan listening. "No," he finally said, pushing himself up, "I actually need to ask Jasper something so, you can go on ahead."

For a moment, it looked as if Stan were about to argue before his friend merely shrugged and slung his bag over his shoulder. Once again, Kyle was thankful for the others ability to go along without asking too many questions.

"If you say so, I'll see ya later then," the dark-haired boy said as he turned and throwing up a hand in farewell, started back down the path leading out of the forest.

Watching Stan for a minute longer, Kyle twisted back around only to make a slight sound and not liking how both brunette's were currently staring at him, shifted, biting his lip instinctively. He knew he needed Cartman here for at least one of the topics, but he was still hoping to avoid having the larger boy hear about the second – if possible, he wanted to keep that private, for now.

"Is everything all right, Kyle?" Jasper's smile faltered just slightly, and Kyle could see something almost akin to worry flash across his features.

"Well, um, actually no," he started and heading toward the pair, tried to avoid eye contact with Cartman, focusing exclusively on Jasper. "Today, at school, I think I did something weird to Cartman and I, or we, were wondering if you could explain it."

"I won't make any promises, but I will certainly try my best. What happened?" The man turned now to look at Cartman, who looked as if he would have liked to leave this entire topic alone – which, again, made no sense to Kyle. If it had been him, he would have wanted answers, as soon as possible.

"The Jew there threw himself a little hissy fit, so I went after him and was trying to bring him back--" here Cartman paused, as Kyle snorted and ignoring the dark look the larger boy sent him, motioned for him to continue, "--when he got pissed, yelled at me to let him go, and then it felt like I'd been hit by a semi truck. But, for some reason, I felt like I needed to do what he'd said and, when I _did_ let him go, the pain faded."

Well, that was news to Kyle. He knew about the pain, had been able to clearly see it hit Cartman almost instantly, but this was the first he'd heard of the rest. Shaking his head, he merely looked back toward Jasper, not all that surprised to see the man looking pleased – for some reason, every time something like this happened, he acted like it was great.

"Oh, well that's nothing to worry about. As I've explained before, the bond shared between you and Kyle is in place to make sure you can offer your best protection, and this is merely another side-effect," Jasper began, and he reached out, tapping Kyle's chest. "As a result of the connection, Kyle has the ability to give you commands during battle.

I am sure you remember your last fight against Trent, yes? You weren't doing too well on your own, to begin with, but once Kyle intervened, it was clear that your own strength rose tremendously."

"All I did was say his name, though, I didn't tell him to do anything," Kyle interjected, not thinking that made any sense; then again, none of this did.

"At the time, the bond understood what was being asked of it and acted accordingly, most of the time however, a full verbal command will need to be issued. As for the pain you felt, Eric, no doubt you first attempted to deny the order?"

The responding grunt was all the answer Jasper needed, for he soon continued.

"The more you deny an order, the more pain you will feel. I've told you before, your powers awakened to protect Kyle, and the crystal his possesses. It places you in second place, I'm afraid, and will continue to do so until the threat has been eliminated." Yet again, Kyle felt a swell of guilt ripple through him and he fought to repress it.

"Man, this just keeps getting better, doesn't it?" Cartman hissed, and letting out a low string of curses, pushed past Kyle, heading for his own bag. "First I get to be bonded to the Jew, then he can order me around, and now this power of mine is ready to fucking let me die, if it means keeping the daywalker safe? Great, wonderful, what the fuck is going to be next?" He seemed to be ranting more to himself than anyone else, and Kyle simply watched as he grabbed his bag, lifting it onto his back as he headed toward the path. "I'm going home, if that is, the Jew can get back to his own house without dying?"

Eyes narrowing at the jab, Kyle stiffened. "I can get home just fine, fatass," he snarled, temporarily forgetting any guilt he might have felt. Honestly, why did the boy have to act like he'd planned all of this, just to make his life harder?

The larger brunette remained unresponsive as he started down the pathway, and waiting until he was almost gone from view, Kyle turned back to Jasper, letting out a heavy sigh; at least now he could address his other problem.

"Something else has been bothering me lately," he claimed, and aware that the man was once again giving him his full attention, swallowed. "I think it might be the crystal, or something related to it, but I keep seeing images of this one guy – there's a woman too, but I'm pretty sure that's Katharina. The guy though, I have no idea who he is, but I think his name might be Wolfram."

It was an almost instant reaction. Jasper's entire body seemed to go tense, and any remains of the ever-present smile vanished, replaced with a look of shock. Immediately wondering if he had been wrong to bring this up, Kyle cleared his throat and starting to feel uncomfortable, took a small step back, a hand moving to rub his arm. Finally, the older man seemed to recover, for he chuckled and the smile returned, though it carried with it an odd, almost strained feel.

"Yes, this was bound to happen eventually," Jasper muttered, and while the words were obviously said more for himself, Kyle still leaned forward, frowning. "This is nothing for you to be really concerned about, Kyle, you are merely seeing memories that have been absorbed by the crystal. No doubt one day, should you pass it on to another, they will see snippets of your own memories."

Well that was odd, but at least it seemed to make some sort of sense and nodding his understanding, Kyle glanced off, eyes focusing on a squirrel making its way down a nearby tree. "You seemed to know Katharina, so did you ever know anyone named Wolfram?" He could have taken the answer he'd been given and gone home, but something demanded he continue, that he find out more about the mysterious man.

"Wolfram was my brother."

Head snapping back around, Kyle blinked and staring at Jasper as if he had grown another head, he swallowed, trying to wrap his mind around the words he'd just heard. "Brother? That guy was your brother?" Why the hell was he seeing images of Jasper's _brother_?

"Indeed, my elder brother, to be exact. It is no surprise you have seen him, he and Katharina were quite close," Jasper explained, the strange look still stuck in his expression. "They were actually engaged, were to be married until Wolfram was killed by a rebel. He preformed much the same role for Katharina that young Eric does for you, as the main protector." The man's voice sounded slightly strained, and Kyle quickly threw out any other questions he may have had.

It was easy to see that talking about his brother was no easy task.

Silence fell over the pair, and Kyle sought to fix the awkward moment as he smiled, once again clearing his throat. "Oh, well, thanks, I was hoping it wasn't anything to worry about." Not the best recovery, but for the life of him, he could not think of anything else to say that sounded remotely all right.

To his surprise, Jasper closed the distance between them, a hand moving to rest on his shoulder and staring up at the man, he went still, face heating slightly at just how close the other was. What the hell was going on now?

"My brother died protecting the crystal which now resides within you, Kyle. I will do everything in my power to make sure his loss was not in vain, and I know that you, as well as Eric and Stanley, will make not only myself, Katharina proud. We have a long road ahead of us, but there is no stopping now, so don't let me down."

Then, as quickly as it had happened, the hand was gone and Jasper was walking past him, no doubt heading back toward Cartman's house, as if the previous exchange had never even taken place. It left Kyle, however, with a very cold feeling running through his body.

For some reason, he had a feeling that disappointing the other would be the least of his problems.

* * *

**Author Note**: Oh wow, I died for a while didn't I? Life got in the way and for a long time, I just wasn't in any shape to write. Things have finally calmed down, though, so let's see if I can't get back on track! I never once forgot about this story, it's in my head most of the time, but it wasn't until recently that I had any time to really work on it.

I actually had the first half of this chapter done since around the middle of October, but when I came back to it yesterday, I found that it was awful so I rewrote the whole thing and I'm rather proud of this chapter, if only because I finally got to write Wendy and focus more on Jasper's thoughts – who, by the way, everyone should keep an eye on.

So yes, get ready, because chapter eight is when everything goes down! Oris: You hit a little too close to the money, but I won't say on what points and will just hope that my execution will not disappoint! Until the next time, thanks to everyone who reads this and I hope you enjoyed it!

Again, I re-read this chapter way too many times so, if I missed anything, let me know! After a while, it all runs together and I skip over things. xD


	9. Author's Note

I'm not sure how many people still know of this story, but I haven't forgotten about it. Life took some unexpected turns and so for a long time, I wasn't able to work on it like I wanted. Recently, I was able to settle down and take a look back, and I discovered that I'm not at all happy with how the story was going.

So, instead of letting the story die, I've been working on a rewrite. Some events have been changed or taken out completely, and certain things have been switched around. Once I have all of the current chapters done, I'll be putting them back up as a new story-I haven't logged in to this account in some time so, I can't edit the story, which is annoying but what can you do?

The title will remain the same, so if you're interested in reading the new version, keep an eye out. I'm almost done with the current chapters so, it shouldn't be too long before I can start posting them.

In the end, I'm still writing this for me; the story has never really left me and I want to finish it, so even if no one reads it, I want to look back and say that I set myself a goal and reached it.

For those that have read the story and left reviews, thank you! The fact that you took the time to read my work and comment on it means the world to me, and I hope you'll give the new version a chance, despite how long its been.


End file.
